Thorin's Queen
by kkolmakov
Summary: Now that Erebor has been reclaimed, who will take a place near Thorin Oakenshield on the throne of Durin? Surely, not a random fling from seven years ago... *No Infringement Intended* Written in collaboration with RagdollPrincess. Not related to other of my stories, except "Another Night, Another Path." Timeline #2. Story #1.
1. Chapter 1

_Written by __kkolmakov_

_7 years ago..._

Thorin's feet slid in the mud, his weight supported by Fili's shoulder and his sword, the Deathless that he jabbed into the ground.

"Uncle, we need to move, there might be more of them..." Thorin snarled through his teeth. He knew they needed to get off the road, but the thick trickle of his blood was quickly filling the boot, and the burning wound on the side deep and open. He pressed his elbow in it. It slashed his shoulder with a new wave of livid pain. The arrow head was still stuck deep into the muscles.

By the time they reached the infirmary in Bree, the loss of blood blurred his vision, strange colourful shapes floating in his eyes. Fili pushed the door with his other shoulder and dragged him in. Thorin felt his body sagging, and he clenched his teeth. He knew Fili was wounded too, but surely the boy could have been more careful!

"Put him on the table!" A young clear voice rang, and he felt a couple of little hands on himself. They were strong, deft, and unpleasantly cold when they slid on his pulse on the neck. He winced and felt his clothes being dragged off him, brigandine jerked over his head, and he hissed. "How long have you been walking?"

"About two hours," Fili sounded exhausted, "There is a sword wound on the side, and..."

"I will see everything myself, I just need the timeline. Go with Todd, he will see to your shoulder."

"I will not leave my uncle..."

"It is my infirmary, and you will do as I say. Go!" The voice was self-assured, and Thorin involuntarily smirked. "Master Dwarf, do you hear me?" A pair of strange green eyes peered in his. He tried to focus. He realized the healer was a young maiden and cursed his luck. It would be so very foolish to die in the hands of an inexperienced girl in a rotten town of Men!

He heard the sound of his tunic being cut and cold hands lay on his abdomen. He ground his teeth and tried to focus on her.

"Your name, Master Dwarf." "Boin, son of Gloin," he felt there was no need flailing his titles around when there was price on his head.

"Well, Boin, son of Gloin, that will hurt." And it did. He growled through clenched teeth and felt as if she poked his slashed side with red hot iron bar. Something metal clanged, and he understood she pulled out a piece of the blade stuck in him. He remembered the attacker's sword breaking off the tip over his armour.

The tangy strange smell of some balm filled his nose. Then cold palm pressed into the wound, and it actually felt even tolerable. He took an easier breath and finally managed to look at her. Young, freckled nose, strange slanted eyes, and the brightest orange hair he has ever seen. Small curls around her head escaping a modest do with a braid going around her head. He hoped she was over twelve, because she surely did not look like it.

She was busy with his wound, movements confident, even white teeth worrying a plump bottom lip. And then he felt a needle going through his flesh.

"I need to close the wound, the sides are too jagged." She was not talking to him obviously, but the certain, clear tone helped. He breathed through the pain.

She finished with his side, and then her hands ran over his body. He could not believe she needed guidance to locate a giant bleeding hole in his shoulder!

"The shoulder..." She shushed him and continued feeling his muscles. He gnashed his teeth. The unassuming lass just shushed him! She finished her examination, and he felt the same spicy smell again. This time he knew the touch of the cold palm was coming, and he welcomed it. And then the burning pain again.

"Maiar, your tissues are so much denser than that of a Man," she jammed her surgery tool deeper into his shoulder, and white spots danced in front of his eyes. Through the haze he felt surprised at her tone. She sounded angry, as if it was his fault she could not pull the arrow head stuck in his shoulder. He turned his head and looked at her face.

Pale skin, translucent, radiant, orange freckles, frowned brows, she bit into her lower lip and pulled with a surprising strength. The arrow head clanged on the table, and she reached for another balm.

"Well, Master Boin, another small prick," a curved needle appeared in her hand.

**XXX**

A week passed, and he could finally get up. He staggered into the baths and finally started to wash. He felt as if he would never feel clean again, hair entangled and dirty, his whole body covered in grime. He was soaking in the hot water, when the door flew open. Wren, as such was the name of the healer, rushed in and then swirled on her heels, having realized he was in a tub.

"What are you doing, Master Dwarf?" She stood with her back to him, her voice enraged and disdainful.

"What does it look like, honourable healer?"

"You cannot stay there for so long! You were allowed to wash quickly, not soak your stitches in boiling water. I came in to make sure you are not sprawled on a floor having lost consciousness. Get out of there immediately!" He did not even know what to say. Not only she did not know her place, such insolence in a simple girl of Men, but she also was not leaving.

"Are you aware you are in a bath chamber, honourable healer? With a naked man?" His voice mocking, he pointedly made splashing noises. Her shoulders grew tense.

"I do not care what is between your legs, Master Dwarf, you are in my care. And you need to come out." Besides unexpected pleasure of teasing the contemptuous bird, he simply enjoyed the heat and the comfort of the bath. The muscles felt relaxed, skin clean and fresh, his head blissfully empty. He chuckled and considered splashing some water at her straight back. Or possibly the delightful small bum. Then he realized what he was thinking and halted.

And then she exhaled and slowly turned. Her green eyes burning, strange narrow face furious, she pointedly gave him a look over, as if saying, _"Here, I am looking at you naked_ _in a tub. So what?"_ and strode towards him.

"Get up and get out of the cursed tub! Right now!"

He felt strange lightness in his head. He spread his arms on the edges of the bath.

"Or what?" She looked good when she was angry. Feverish blush on the cheekbones, tiny hands fisted, jaw tense, she looked less of a skinny bird and more of a tongue of flame. And then he shook his head. What sort of rubbish was that thought?

"Or you will bleed out in this bath." She pointed at the water, blood speedily colouring it. He looked down and pushed up from the edges of the tub. His head swam, and he swayed. She darted forward and pushed her shoulder towards him for support. He hesitated, and she made a scornful noise. "Don't be an imbecile, you will not get out on your own."

She helped him to step out and pushed him on the nearest bench. And then she knelt in front of him, and her nimble little fingers started inspecting the wound. He heard her grumbling under her breath, and he thought he heard "cantankerous" and "puffed up". He looked down at her and then realized their positions.

He stared on the crown of her flaming head. The back of her neck was gentle and delicate, and he could see the contours of her shoulder blades under the healer's robe. She lifted her eyes at him, and he felt like a child that is about to be scolded. He felt faint and strangely giddy. And then he dove in and pressed his lips to hers. She squeaked and pushed away from him.

He chuckled and gave her a look over. She sat on the floor, on her delectable backside, he thought it was time to admit he really liked the round little buttocks, her eyes wide open and pupils almost hiding the green irises. Or were they brown? Something in the middle, he thought, and smirked.

And then she lifted a brow and asked sarcastically, "How much time exactly did you spend in that tub, Master Dwarf? How delirious one has to get from blood loss to make his advances to me," the last phrase she obviously addressed to herself, after which she got up and smoothed her robe. "Let us return you to the bed, the orderly already changed your sheets." She came up to him and stretched her hand to him. "And I brought your fresh clothes, your nephew bought them."

**XXX**

Almost two months passed, and Thorin decided that this madness had to stop. The realization came when he caught himself standing in the yard of the infirmary in a foolish hope to catch a glimpse of her running by on some errands. His wounds were partially healed, and had he not been exaggerating his pain for the last two weeks, he and Fili would have been on the road.

He stayed, he complained and said he could not sleep, he refused to take draughts, and faked more pain. She inspected the wound again and again, the pulps of her fingers sliding on his skin, and she would frown. He was staring at her long elegant neck. "I do not understand, I was certain it should be healed by now. Are you sure it is not something else? How do you eat? A stomach pain perhaps?"

He would schooled his face into a peevish expression, "Which one of us two is a healer, lady Wren?"

She sighed, "How many time have I asked you, master Boin, not to call me that. Honourable healer would suffice." She touched his abdomen again, and he clenched his teeth to suppress a shiver. She looked embarrassed. "I honestly do not understand..." He saw pulse beating on her neck and imagined pressing his lips to that spot. And then he berated himself for stupidity. And then imagined her neck and the narrow back with graceful shoulder blades arch while her head was dropped back in rapture.

He stood in the yard for half an hour when finally she rushed by, swift on her tiny feet, the unruly curls bobbing with each step, her head set regally and gracefully. She was chatting with another healer, and passing by she gave him a small bow. Her astonishing eyes were laughing, and he decided he was an imbecile indeed.

The last drop was the day when he realized that he was gazing on her ankles when sitting on a window sill of the sun room she was dangling her legs and chewing an apple. Was he completely out of his mind? The next thing would be writing poetry and carving her name on a tree. He mentally gave himself a smack at the back of the head. Her white teeth sank into the flesh of the fruit, and his mouth went dry. He imagined those red lips on some parts of his own anatomy, and the said parts rejoiced. That had to end, and quickly.

**XXX**

He learnt her schedule by then, and knew she was going to be in the kitchen late at night, washing vials and dosing draughts. He just needed to extinguish this strange hunger for her body and be done with it. He would have his fill, might have to go a few rounds, and leave. She was very different from the women he usually went for, too skinny, too strange. He could not understand this. What was there to entice him? She did not try to be attractive, unlike other female healers, she did not decorate her robe, hair in a simple braid, turned up nose, no curves. He even thought that perhaps once he could lay his hands on her, the hunger would go away on its own. She was all angles and bones, and that would be bones of a small bird, note the name.

If she was willing, he would just need to make sure there was no child. If she was a maiden, he could try seduction. He was not good at it, but surely a simple healer from Bree was not the most sophisticated of women. Or he would offer her money. Perhaps he could mention his title and status. If she was unwilling, that would be even better. He would leave and get to the nearest brothel. Surely they had redheads there.

**XXX**

With a clear plan in his mind he entered the kitchen and stared at her ankles. She was putting some boxes on a tall shelf, tiptoeing on the top of a ladder. She pushed the box in and climbed down. She smoothed her hair and then noticed him.

"Master Boin, are you alright? Is it the pain?" Her face was concerned, and he could not find a single word. She stepped closer and touched his shoulder. "Master Boin?.." He could see the delicate wings of her nose, long black lashes and the tender concern in her eyes, and something snapped.

His head suddenly filled with some strange roaring fire, his ears ringing, and he grabbed her, pressed her into him, caught her mouth, greedy, hungry, pained. She whimpered and her narrow palms pressed into his chest. He did not notice. All he could feel is the smell of her skin, her hair, her delicate body under his roaming hands, her smooth skin. One of his hands grabbed the back of her dress, the second covered her breast, and his lips slipped on her jaw.

The feeling of the pulse beating on her neck suddenly returned him to reality. That and her hands gently stroking his hair and shoulders. He realized he was shaking and that she was making some small comforting noises. The absurdity of her behaviour made him halt and look at her, that was not how a potential victim of assault was to behave. His hands still clutching her dress, she cupped his face and looked into his eyes.

"What is it, Master Boin? What troubles you?" And he just could not do that anymore.

"That is not my name," his voice was gruff, he took a shuddering breath in. "It is Thorin, Thorin Oakenshield." Her eyes grew wider. Her hands continued stroking his cheeks though, and she gave him a small encouraging smile.

"That is a beautiful name, Master Dwarf. It is sad it comes with so much responsibility." Her hands on his beard, she made him look into her eyes. She ran her hands through his hair and chuckled, "No wonder you are such a grouch all the time!" He hiked up his brows at her. Inconceivable woman! She smiled wider. And then suddenly he was just blurting everything out, what he felt, what the look at her body did to him, how they could never be together, how he wanted her, take her, possess her, right there, press her body into the kitchen wall, just to cope with the hunger, and pain, and the longing…

Through his absurd feverish mumbling, she was soothing him, rubbing his shoulders, and he realized she was quietly laughing and crying at the same time. "I thought I was alone in these feeling, my lord…" And he could not hold it back anymore, he jumped at her again, pushed her on the table, spread her under him, his hand rudely shoved up her skirts. Her giant amber eyes, neither green nor brown, pupils dilated, were staring at him. And he froze.

"Are you a maiden, honourable healer?" He could not believe he was even talking, his jaws clenched so hard that his words sounded like a snarl. He realized he was probably hurting her, his hands grasped on her slender shoulders, his knee pressed between her legs. Rosy blush was burning on her cheekbones, but he realized she was not fighting him. Her right hand was clenched in a small delicate fist on the table near her hip, while the left one was pressed into his chest. He took a shuddering breath in. She was not pushing him away though. The little fingers twitched, and he felt it through the tunic.

"No," she licked her lips, he felt his whole body jolt, "And yes, of sorts... There was one man, long time ago…" She swallowed, and the fragile throat moved. It took all the willpower left in him not to bite into the pale skin there. She still was not moving, spread under him. Suddenly she smiled. Her hands cupped his face, little strong fingers scratching his beard. His breathing hitched.

He realized he could not do it. Not with her, not on the table, hastily and roughly. Not this way, as if an animal, as if forcing her, as if conquering her body. He wanted this caress, this warmth in her eyes, her soft red lips to smile, to say his name, to speak of love. He recoiled, his own thoughts terrifying him.

He moved away and slid off the table. He stepped back to the wall, his heart beating painfully, his member still tense in his breeches. He saw confusion on her face, she sat up and the tiny feet dangled off the edge of the table. He closed his eyes. He wanted to kneel in front of her and kiss the delicate calves and knees, a memory of little pink toes flashing in his mind. It was a rainy day, and she was jumping over the puddles, her shoes in her hand...

"I apologize, honourable healer… It was outrageous behaviour… I..." He had no words, he felt dizzy and berated himself for feeling like a brainless village girl in love. She was staring at him attentively, eyes wide open, lips pressed together.

Then she nodded and smiled sadly, "Thank you, my lord, for your mindfulness, I would not have been able to stop." He jerked his head up. That was the first time in his life he was ever praised for being conscious and reasonable, and he gave out an incredulous chuckle.

She was sitting and staring at her knees, her skirt still bunched up around her hips. He stepped forward and gently pulled at the hem. It fell down and covered her knees. He felt his body lament the disappearance of smooth pale skin of her thighs, but he already made his decision. She lifted her eyes at him. They were tender and sad. He cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers.

That was their first genuine kiss, and his head swam. Her lips warm and willing, obviously inexperienced but eager, the smell of those white flowers by the road from her skin and hair, her small hands sliding around his ribs, and then a small moan she emitted made his heart clench. He realized with aching clarity that Mahal was so endlessly cruel to him. She was the One. His first kiss of love broke the barriers he had built around his soul all through the years, the roaring fire flooding his body and mind, crushing his spirit and breaking his heart. She signed into his lips, unaware of the excruciating pain he felt in every muscles of his body, and her knees spread, one leg snaking around his. He pushed her away and stepped back.

"I cannot have you to myself," his breathing was laboured, and he fisted his hands. "Not now, not ever. I am a Dwarf and a King." Her brows flew up. For an instant he thought that she was going to offer him at least one night. And he hastily pondered whether he should agree. To have her for at least one night… And then he internally winced from the thought, surely she should feel how wrong that would be. It was not about coupling like beasts, to satisfy physical hunger, a pain of suspicion gripped his heart. Was he wrong to assume she was the pure and noble maiden he thought she was? "I will leave immediately."

"I will never love another," her voice was so quiet that for a second he thought he misheard. She lifted her eyes, serious and sad, and the long black lashes fluttered. "Forgive me, my lord," she shook her head, "Now I am behaving outrageously," she chuckled mirthlessly, "But I wanted you to know. More for myself than for your sake, I suppose..." Her eyes shifted on the floor again. He stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around her, pressed her small body into his, feeling her heart beating through the two thin tunics. She fit into him perfectly, and he felt like screaming, and raging, and breaking everything around him.

He reigned his rage and spoke softly, reveling in her warmth for the last time, "Neither will I, honourable healer. And Dwarves never break promises such as this one."

Him and Fili set on the road the next day before dawn. He did not get to see her in the morning. He only regretted he did not ask for any token. But then he berated himself for stupid sentimentality. Not that he would be able to forget her without one.

**A/N: Alrighty, my lovelies! This is a collaboration fic with RagdollPrincess, a companion to her story _What The Future Brings_.**

**Remember, it is Thorin 2.0 and Wren 2.0, not the ones from my other stories, except _Another Night, Another Path_. That is Universe 2.0. from now on officially marked in the descriptions of the stories as U2 :)**

**The story will consist of chapters written by me and RagdollPrincess. There will be smut, fluff and pretty much no angst for my babies, but Kili is a wreck...:( If you want to know more, check out her story!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Alrighty, ****my lovelies****, the game is on! The glorious ****RagdollPrincess**** and your humble servant had an inspiration spree and more chapters are to come pretty quickly. Remember, it is Thorin2 and Wren2 from _Another Night, Another Path_, and that is the beginning of their journey. **

**Seven years passed and...**

_Written by __RagdollPrincess_

Kili stood by the river filling his water skin. Balin and Thorin were sitting by the fire smoking pipes, getting ready to travel for the day. Today was the day they would arrive in Bree.

Kili walked back towards the campfire and perched on a rock. He felt agitated and was anxious to be on the move. Thorin seemed unwilling to go, surprising considering this was the day he would be finding his long lost love. Kili glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, feeling slightly irritated with his uncle, mostly without warrant but instead due to Kili's own irritable mood that hung over him like a cloud.

Kili noticed Balin fidget briefly as he glanced at the king as well, clearly waiting for Thorin to declare it was time to depart. Thorin seemed lost in his own thoughts, though, an anxious wrinkle formed between his brows.

After another moment, Balin cleared his throat. "Thorin," he began, "perhaps you could tell us a wee bit about our future queen." This comment seemed to draw Thorin out of his reverie, although he only stared blankly at Balin as though he didn't comprehend the question. After a brief pause Balin continued. "I only mean that it might be nice to have some warning as what to expect," he encouraged.

Thorin's eyes dropped to his hands, which Kili noticed were uncharacteristically worrying a twig he had picked up somewhere. At first Kili thought Thorin wasn't going to speak, and was surprised when Thorin looked up at them.

Suddenly Thorin spoke in a quiet anxious voice, sounding lost like a small child. "What if I am wrong? Even if she is unattached, will she be willing to lock herself up in the stone walls, without sunlight and her herbs, and give up her life and live according to the Dwarven traditions? It is not an easy life for a Queen..." Balin looked at his friend for a moment before placing his hand on his shoulder and squeezing it sympathetically.

Kili rolled his eyes, muttering, "Most likely she will run away from you in the middle of the night without such as a note!" Balin sighed as he stared at Kili, shaking his head in disappointment. Kili closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

Balin closed his own eyes briefly as though asking Mahal for patience before shaking his head at Kili across the fire, silently urging him to speak no more. He turned to Thorin and prompted him again. "You were saying, Thorin?"

Thorin hadn't seemed to notice the exchange between Kili and Balin and had lapsed back into silence, staring off into the distance. He suddenly shifted his eyes to Balin.

"She is like no one I've ever met before. She's intelligent, and she seems cool and distant on the surface, but when you look in her eyes, which are the most unusual colour I've ever seen, you see that there is gentleness there. She's very small for a human, but she has remarkably strong hands."

Thorin chuckled at some memory he didn't share with them. "She bossed around all of these men in the infirmary as though she owned the place, this scrap of a girl. She can be quite bossy, actually, and you don't want to make her angry. You'll regret it if you do. It's better to just do what she says because you'll end up doing so in the end anyway." Thorin chuckled, his face beginning to relax.

Kili felt red hot rage boil up inside of himself. He was furious. He was furious with Thorin for making him come on this journey to find a woman the fool hadn't seen in over seven years, but he was mostly furious that Thorin was in love and was so hopeful and excited about seeing this woman, despite the anxiety that seemed to take him from time to time. Kili was angry and wanted to spite anyone who dared to be happy in love when his own love had abandoned him. He couldn't stop his rage from boiling over as he heard Thorin's words.

"You're a fool," he spat at his uncle. Both of the older dwarves looked at Kili in astonishment. "You're a fool to think she's still there, waiting for you. She probably moved onto the next available man as soon as you left, mocking you for being unable to get the deed done. She probably fucked some other man the moment you were out the door, laughing at the dwarf who declared his love for her when she didn't even know your name. By now she's probably working as a whore in some brothel, mother to half a dozen children she's sent off to other families because a woman so willing to bed someone she barely knows is clearly unfit to be a mother or wife to anyone, let alone a queen."

Kili found himself pressed up against a tree, Thorin's hand painfully tight around his neck. Kili didn't struggle but stared at Thorin shock. Thorin had never raised a hand to him in his life, however much he may have deserved it at times. It was rare for Thorin to lose control, and Kili had only seen it a few times. Whenever Thorin did threaten violence, it was always when someone he loved was threatened, and once towards Bilbo when he'd found out that the hobbit had given the Arkenstone to Bard.

For a moment, the urge to continue to snarl insults at his uncle overtook Kili. A self-destructive part of himself that seemed to grow stronger each day, along with the pressure slowly building in his head, was deeply tempted to see how much Thorin could take before he snapped on Kili and caused him bodily harm.

Kili would have welcomed the physical pain such an altercation would have brought, a break from the emotional agony that consumed him and an opportunity to work off his constant state of agitation. But even through the fog of his own misery Kili was able to see in Thorin's eyes that some of the words Kili had said were fears that Thorin had been grappling with himself.

They stood locked together for a moment before Thorin hissed, "Don't spread your hatred and venom just because your own heart has been broken." Kili had remained silent until Thorin released him.

"Forgive me, uncle," Kili said in a low voice. Thorin eyed him coldly before nodding curtly and turning to prepare to mount his pony.

When they arrived at Bree later that day, they proceeded directly to the infirmary. Thorin stopped outside of the door, his hand frozen in midair as he had been reaching to pull the handle of the door. He seemed paralyzed. Kili glanced at Balin, but the older dwarf seemed to have schooled his features into an expression of detached calm.

Kili glanced at his uncle again and followed Balin's lead, remaining silent as he shifted slightly on his feet, waiting for his uncle to move. He saw the muscles in Thorin's jaw tense as Thorin clenched his hand tightly in a fist for a moment before releasing it and grasping the door handle, wrenching the door open and moving through it as quickly as his injured leg allowed.

Kili and Balin followed him into the infirmary, keeping a distance as Thorin turned towards a long open well lit room. Thorin moved through the doorway to the room and stopped just over the threshold. Kili followed Thorin's gaze, which seemed to be fixed on a small figure at the end of the room.

Kili glanced around the room finding it empty of all healers except for the small figure. He realized Thorin must have had another lapse of anxiety brought on by not finding the woman he sought in this room. Wishing to be helpful, Kili took breath to encourage Thorin to ask the small person he was staring at if she possibly knew where he could find the woman they sought, when the sun from a nearby window caught the figure, illuminating her copper hair that was wrapped tightly around her head in a braid, small stubborn curls escaping and clinging to her thin neck.

Kili froze in shock as he remembered Fili's words. "Not the skinny redhead?" Fili had asked before Thorin had snapped at him.

Kili realized he was indeed looking at a person of that exact description. The figure was quite small, easily described as skinny, and her hair was as orange as the setting sun. Kili watched as she helped a patient, her movements determined and purposeful, as she instructed the patient in a bossy tone to drink his tonic. She was wearing a horribly unattractive green tunic the colour of swamp water over which was tied an apron covered in something disgusting, which Kili was sure he didn't want to know the origin of.

Kili stared at her in astonishment. This could not be the person they were here to see. It wasn't possible that this slip of a girl was the person Thorin had fallen in love with. She seemed so odd, so frail. In the name of Mahal, she looked as though she'd break upon being touched, let alone being bedded by a dwarf.

The woman turned away from the patient, apparently not having seen them yet, and quickly removed the disgusting apron and disposed of it in a nearby basket clearly intended for this purpose. Picking up a crate of vials, she turned towards the doorway and raised her head to glance down the row of beds, freezing as she finally caught sight of them, her eyes suddenly locked on Thorin's face.

Kili stood, waiting for someone to move or speak, and felt himself grow impatient as the silence stretched. He exhaled in relief as the woman cleared her throat but felt frustrated as she only carefully set the vials down again, her thin shoulders rising as she appeared to take a deep breath. He noticed a slight tremor to her hands as she then smoothed her dress. She raised her head again, holding her chin at a proud angle and squaring her shoulders as though attempting to compose herself, her expression unreadable.

Then suddenly she began to move quickly towards them, at first walking and then beginning to run, her red mouth stretched wide in a grin. Thorin began to move towards her, slowly as he limped, before her body crashed into his, a loud thump resounding in the long room.

The woman began to laugh as she threw her arms around Thorin's neck, and Kili watched Thorin wrap his arms tightly around her waist and lift her small feet off the ground as he held her to him, his own deep laugh rising from his chest as he buried his face in her neck. "You came back!" she exclaimed. "After all these years, you came back!"

Thorin only appeared to hold her more tightly, and after a moment she pulled away from him, gasping for breath. If Kili had thought he couldn't be any more astonished, he was proven wrong when Thorin brought his hands to the woman's face, cupping her delicate jaw in his large palms and looking deeply into her eyes in earnest. "Honourable healer," he said. "I have come to take you to Erebor."

She laughed, her slanted eyes crinkling with mirth. "Well, my lord, I have to change. I can't go in healers' robes." It was as though they were continuing a conversation they'd had only that morning over tea rather than reuniting for the first time in almost a decade. Her voice was strong and confident with a sarcastic lilt to it that made Kili raise his eyebrows, if he could possibly raise them any further.

Thorin laughed with her as she brought her hands to his cheeks, stroking them affectionately. As though she was unable to stop herself, her nails dug under the whiskers there as she began to scratch as his beard. A deep rumbling noise escaped Thorin's chest, his face breaking with a wide cat like grin, and Kili wrinkled his brow, feeling almost embarrassed for his uncle at the undignified behaviour.

The healer pressed her body into his as though she was moving into to kiss him when she suddenly pulled away. Thorin's brows drew together in concern at the sudden distance, reaching for her as she cleared her throat and nodded pointedly towards Balin.

Thorin glanced around in confusion, clearly having forgotten the presence of his companions. For a moment, he glared at Kili as though Kili had intentionally interrupted his reunion with healer. Kili couldn't help but glare back at his uncle in irritation, wishing to remind his uncle that he had not volunteered to come along on this journey. He bit his tongue, however, as his uncle spoke.

"May I present to you, Wren, your future queen." Wren's eyes widened at his words, and Kili wondered why she suddenly looked at Thorin in shock, her head snapping to Thorin so quickly that the copper curls that had escaped the tight braid bounced against her neck. Kili bit back a laugh as he wondered if maybe his uncle had gotten her name wrong. It had been seven years after all.

"Queen?" she asked in surprise.

"But of course," Thorin dismissed. "You are going to marry me." She stared at him momentarily in shocked silence before composing herself.

Balin moved first, clearly unable to contain his delight. Kili wondered what Balin had to be so happy about, but Balin seemed completely taken with the woman before them. "Balin, at your service," he said, grinning as he bowed deeply, his arms spread wide in welcome. The healer smiled at him graciously, and Kili didn't fail to note the slight bow of her head as though she was queen already.

Gritting his teeth, Kili stepped forward after Balin retreated. "And Kili, at your service," he said, unable to keep the cold tone out of his voice. The woman's smile faltered slightly as her gaze settled upon him. Kili held her gaze briefly before looking away, angry as he felt her strange eyes bore into his. He saw something he didn't like in her eyes as she gazed at him, as though she could read his thoughts and see into his heart. Even though he had only just met her, he felt an intense dislike towards her immediately upon the introduction.

The moment was broken as Thorin reached for her, his patience stretched to the limit, while she laughed as he began to steer her towards a nearby door leading to a small closet. Thorin wrenched the door open as he spoke to them. "Go to the inn. I'll join you there later." He backed the healer into the closet, slamming the door shut behind them.

Kili and Balin stood staring at the door and then each other in astonishment before Balin smiled at Kili, gesturing for him to follow Balin out of the room. "Come, Kili, let us find some food," he said. "You've done naught but drink ale since we departed Erebor, and I'm sure to see you eat a proper meal before the day is out."

**A/N: The next chapter is just about ready to go and should be up in a couple days. And don't forget, if you want to know what's wrong with Kili, read _What The Future Brings_ by RagdollPrincess.**


	3. Chapter 3

_Written by kkolmakov_

Thorin pushed her into the closet and forcefully pulled the door closed behind him. There was enough room in it, and she stepped back, away from him. He let her, suddenly worried that she was overwhelmed. But her face was calm, elated, the slanted eyes he remembered so well were bright and smiling. She was surveying his face, then her stare slid on his shoulders and roamed all his body.

"Honourable healer..." His voice sounded suddenly uncertain even to him.

"Wren," she met his eyes again and smiled, "You should call me Wren." He smiled back, but then immediately frowned. He suddenly felt hurried, he needed her to understand, to know his thoughts and his feelings.

"I wish to marry you and make you my Queen. The Queen... Erebor is ours again..." He felt panicked. He realised he was mumbling. That was not how one proposed marriage. She had known him for two moons seven years ago, his mind was railing. He needed to be eloquent, convince her, charm her. He almost glared at her face trying to perceive her mind. One fevered thought was thrashing in his mind. What if she was married to some lousy baker or a cobbler? Damn Kili for planting this idea in his head. Not that he had not thought of it again and again himself. What if there were children? He felt even more of an imbecile catching himself staring at her stomach. What was he trying to see there?

She had run to him. She had almost kissed him. He immediately remembered her small strong hands pressed to his cheeks, and to his own surprise he felt his head swim. Surely she sensed it too. Certainty. The undoubtable definiteness. She belonged to him. And he to her. For the first time he felt no fear at a thought of something constricting him. It was an ultimate set of restraints, to love and to be loved, but he welcomed it.

He stared at her waiting for an answer. She seemed preoccupied with studying his attire. Her brows were hiked, her expression cheerful and curious.

"Honourable... Wren..." She tore her eyes from his buckle and looked at him. "Will you be my wife?" He was shocked by the ease with which the words slipped off his lips.

She grinned widely and stepped closer. "Of course I will," her tone was almost comforting. This is how one talks to a fretting child. She stretched her hand and tentatively touched the fur collar of his coat with the tips of her fingers.

Suddenly he laughed loudly. He felt vulnerable, helpless in front of her, hers to do whatever she felt like, break him, destroy and crush him at her whim, and she seemed shy even to touch him. And then he laughed again. Why was he not scared? He was defenceless in the hands of a small woman he knew so little about. Why would he feel exuberant and safe?

She smiled again joining his elation. He realized she was still standing too far, and he wrapped his arms around her waist decisively. She gasped, and the eyes flew wide. Her hands lay on his shoulders. He froze, he needed her to reciprocate. She had touched his face there, outside the closet, in front of everyone. Her cool strong fingers had cupped his face, and he did not know how to ask her to do it again. He exhaled and looked at the face that was finally so close to his.

Somehow the freckled nose caught his attention, and now he could not stop staring. The bright orange freckles peppering her pale skin were the most astonishing picture he had ever seen in his life.

And then she blushed. Right in front of his eyes soft pink flooded her porcelain skin, the cheekbones obviously burning up, and he saw the fluffy lashes flutter. She was so beautiful for him at that moment that he felt embarrassed. He was not forty, he was experienced, he knew women, he knew... What did he know? His head felt empty, he was suddenly hot under his collar, and his own hands on her tiny waist seemed heavy and clumsy.

And then her eyes grew suddenly impish. "Are you doubting your choice already, my lord?"

"What?! No," his voice broke, and he felt peevish. Just to prove her and even more so himself that he was no awkward youngling he pulled her to himself tighter, one of his hand sliding on her shoulder blades.

It made it worse. They were delicate, her back under the rough fabric warm and narrow, and the tips of his fingers brushed her soft skin above the collar of her robe. He gulped.

Suddenly she pushed her nose into his neck and sighed a long deep exhale. "You are here," her voice was soft, and her hands slid under his hair, onto the back of his neck. All of his rigidness and discomfort suddenly gone, he pressed his lips to her temple.

"I am here," there was something final and heart warming in this silly exchange, and he chuckled. And then she slightly moved away, and their eyes met.

The kiss was the perfection of equilibrium. They leaned in simultaneously, their breaths mixing an instant before they felt the touch, and then the taste, both of them closing their eyes, she inhaled in pleasure, he exhaled, and then their world tilted, he pressed on, she clenched her fists with handfuls of his strands, passion rising, flooding them, tenderness stepping back for some time, but never leaving them again. He felt the fabric of the robe grasped in his palm, she moaned into his mouth, and the soft tip of her tongue brushed his lips.

He felt her fingers finally cup his face, the digits curled, and she gently scraped his beard. Then her hands slid on his ears, stroked them, her thumbs ran along his cheekbones. His palm at the back of her neck, he seemed to be learning her, hearing her, her body, her breathing, her pulse evenly beating on the side of her throat.

They pressed their foreheads, catching their breath. He felt some giddy, strange tenderness and kissed the tip of her nose. She giggled and wrinkled it. And then she pounced ahead, pressing her mouth to his again, but this time hotly and greedily, taking him completely by surprise.

Passion erupted in him, his large palms groping her body, slender shoulders and tiny waist, grazed her ribs, and he pushed his fingers into her curls quickly escaping a braid. He tried to take control over the kiss, his hand sliding under her ear, his thumb pressed on her jawline, but she did not let him, attacking him with all possible fervour, clawing at him, moaning into his mouth. She was heating up in his hands, and it was as frightening as the dragon's fire. He felt her white even teeth dip into his bottom lip, and he growled, stepping ahead, pressing her into the wall. She moaned and arched into him. And just like seven years ago he felt her leg wrap around his.

His palms jumped onto her shoulders, and he placed some distance between their bodies. The look on her face almost made him lunge at her again. Eyes shining, feverish, copper hair in a halo around her burning face, lips red and swollen, the dazed look in her unfocused eyes and the knowledge that he put her into this state made him quickly consider how much noise would penetrate the flimsy walls of the closet if he took her right now against this wall. And then he clenched his teeth and renew his determination.

"Wren..." She blinked, and some sanity seemed to return into her amber eyes. She shook her head, and even brighter blush coloured her cheeks.

"I am sorry... That was so inappropriate... I do not know..." She pressed her narrow palms to her face. "I have dreamt of you so much, and I just..." She stumbled over her words, and then in a new gesture that made his heart clench she stepped forward and hid her face in his chest. "Forgive me, my lord… I have never in my life behaved so unseemly..."

Ridiculous elation filled his heart. "Do I gather you have been unattached through these seven years, my lady?" She snorted into his coat. And then she peeked at him with a hesitant flirtiness.

"Do I appear that starved, my lord? I have been unattached. I was waiting for you." Her arms gently wrapped around his waist, and then she giggled. "You are so very wide." His brows jumped up. She hid again and mumbled, "I always prattle when I am nervous..."

He embraced her in return and pressed his cheek to the the top of her head. "I welcome your fervour, my lady, but we will wait till the wedding night." She jumped away from him and stared at him with wide open eyes. He chuckled. He might have been wrong but he seemed to have caught a glimpse of disappointment in her eyes.

"I have a trunk packed," she suddenly laughed, and he joined her, not understanding but enjoying her sudden sunny smile. "I have been packing it for seven years, like a dimwit… I certainly have not thought I would need it." And then her face dropped, and she pressed her palm to her forehead. "Maiar, it is happening..." She grew suddenly pale, and he grasped her shoulder worried she would faint. She smiled to him weakly, and then she firmly pressed her palms to his face and peered into his eyes. "Are you playing with me, Thorin Oakenshield?" That was an interesting tone, he noticed with pleasure, assertive and decisive. He momentarily thanked Mahal again. That was the Queen worthy of Erebor. Or perhaps, Erebor was only just worthy of the woman standing in front of him, her face stern and proud.

He smiled into her burning, menacing eyes, and shook his head. "I am offering you my heart and my Kingdom, honourable healer. Will you accept?"

She surveyed his face for a few more instants and then solemnly nodded. "I will come to your inn in the morning with my trunk. Do I understand it correct that we are leaving first thing in the morning?" He nodded and smiled again.

They moved to each other, mouths meeting, arms caressing, and he doubted the soundness of his decision to wait till the wedding night. He felt the need to do it right. For once it was not about the carnal hunger. But her small strong hands, the way her body seemed to respond to the littlest of his movements, the intoxicating taste of her lips, the light floral smell of her skin and hair…

He pushed her away and decisively jerked the door open. "I will see you in the morning in the Prancing Pony, my lady." He leaned in quickly and pressed the last kiss in the corner of her lips.

He rushed out of the infirmary and gulped his lungs full of the crisp air of Bree. And then a nonsensical thought came to go back and enjoy his happiness just for a little more. He shook his head. He was no dimwit youngling in love.

He made the first heavy steps towards the road and chuckled. He realised he had forgotten about the limp. And then the doors behind him burst open, he swirled on the spot, and all he managed to see was a swoosh of her bright orange mop of hair. Her body slammed into him. Her arms thrown around his neck, she pressed her face to his neck, "I am so happy, I am so happy... You came!" He guffawed.

"I did."

"Maiar, you did." She happily looked into his eyes and laughed. She pecked his lips, let him go and ran back into the infirmary.

Thorin Oakenshield stood in the middle of the busy street in Bree, and his heart was beating painfully. He guessed the muscle had never been used to working so much in a course of one day. And then he took control over his emotions and started walking towards the Prancing Pony.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: In this chapter, my darlings, we will see a bit more Kili. The angst and pain that RagdollPrincess is putting her prince through is simply delicious! Her OFC, Reese, is a member of the race she invented, Futurians, people from our time stuck in Middle Earth. In her story the following chapter is chapter 34, and in the preceding story we see Reese and Kili fall in love and enter steamy relationships. She leaves him after some time though, frightened and threatened by the fact she would have to adopt Dwarven traditions and customs, were she to agree to marry him. I highly encourage you to read the story, it is going to put you through painful hell of emotions, and you will love RagdollPrincess for it! :) And again, the smut is glorious!**

_Written by RagdollPrincess_

Kili of the line of Durin woke the next day to find Balin dozing in a chair by the door. He had a splitting headache and cringed as he caught his own scent, his stomach lurching ominously as he tasted stale beer in his mouth. He sat up in the bed and put his feet on the floor, clearing his throat as he rested his head in his hands. He nearly vomited as he dislodged the phlegm in his throat. He needed something to rinse his mouth out and looked around to find water.

Seeing a pitcher and glass on a dresser across the room, he rose to reach for it but crashed to the floor loudly as he suddenly felt extremely dizzy and nauseous. Rising to his knees, he heaved and vomited on the floor, his sick splattering over his hands and running along the floorboards.

He heard Balin rise, and a glass of water appeared before him. He accepted it gratefully, drinking it in one gulp, before glancing around to find a rag to clean up his sick. Using a sheet from the bed, he began to mop up the mess.

This was beginning to become a more frequent occurrence, although he'd never in his life been as drunk as he had been last night. He didn't remember very much after he and Balin arrived at the inn. He had a vague recollection of his arguing with Thorin, and then everything was a blur.

He imagined Balin had decided to sleep in his room to make sure Kili didn't die in his sleep. Kili felt a surge of guilt at the discomfort Balin would have been in as a result. They were back on the road today, and Balin had given up his one night to sleep in a comfortable bed.

Kili hadn't intended to get so drunk but his anger and jealously at Thorin's happiness and pending marital bliss to the healer had been too painful. He'd desperately wanted to escape and the ale as usual was his way out.

Bunching the soiled sheet in a ball and tossing it in a corner, Kili rose to his feet, feeling a bit better although still extremely hungover. The buzzing pressure in his head that was always present was still there, but he was able to stumble across the room to the pitcher to splash some water on his face. He smelled disgusting and could hardly stand himself. He desperately needed a bath.

"Come along, laddie, let's get some food into you," Balin said behind him. Kili nodded silently as he followed the older dwarf.

Thorin wasn't present at breakfast, and Balin explained that the evening before Thorin had planned to go out first thing in the morning to purchase two more ponies for the healer and her belongings. Kili nodded, wondering if Thorin would ever begin to act like a monarch and allow others to do these things for him. He thought it unlikely.

Despite his protesting stomach, he was able to eat a little, which seemed to make Balin happy as well. He wondered if it was too early to have ale with his meal. He felt he needed something to fortify himself with before embarking on the journey with the lovers. A month ago a hangover such as this would have made him swear off drinking, even if he didn't last the day before breaking his promise to himself. However, he was more realistic now and had come to accept his need, often beginning to drink before the day had fully begun.

The serving girl raised her eyebrows as he placed his order but didn't argue. Balin regarded him sadly from across the table. "Don't you think you could wait a bit, laddie?"

Kili shook his head. "There is no way that I can make it through this journey without something to dull …."

"The pain," Balin finished for him.

Kili nodded and rested his forehead in his hand, eyes closed.

"It won't always be like this, laddie, but I hate to see you ruin your life in the meantime," Balin added.

Kili shook his head again. "Right now I just need to get through this journey with those two. I don't know if I'll be able to stomach it. For the love of Mahal, I wish I understood why Thorin brought me on this journey."

"I believe The King wanted to keep an eye on you," Balin smiled from across the table.

Kili snorted. "I don't need someone to keep an eye on me. And this journey has just made things worse. I just reminds me how useless I am." Kili gestured with his hands. He wasn't even helpful in providing protection. Since the battle, he'd been too terrified to hold a weapon and hadn't even brought his bow on the journey.

"And they make you think of her, don't they?" Balin asked.

Kili nodded as he stared at the table. Balin knew about the elf, but Kili knew Balin was referring to Reese, who occupied so many of Kili's thoughts. "Which just makes everything else even worse, the sleep, the images, this pressure in my head that I can't seem to get rid of," he groaned as he said the last words, rubbing his temple ineffectually.

Balin nodded sadly again. He appeared to be struggling with something and took a long while before he spoke again. "Have you considered going to Adelaide, asking her to come back to you?"

Kili looked at Balin as though he was crazy. "What, and go through this all again? She won't have changed. She never will, so what purpose would that serve? She'll never agree to live in Erebor and to adopt dwarrow ways," Kili shook his head. "This happens to dwarves all the time where the woman doesn't want the man despite his love for her, and that's that. The man has no choice but to continue on with life."

"Aye, but those dwarves aren't in love with Futurians. She was scared and didn't understand. But she is less stubborn than a dwarf and if she knew you wanted her she might come. She might be too afraid to contact you, might think … for some reason… that it's best if she stays away and that you wouldn't want her."

Kili gave Balin a hard look. "And I don't want her, Master Balin. I don't see how it could ever work. We're too different, from different worlds. It's just too hard. It was a mistake from the beginning, Mahal's plans be praised," Kili rolled his eyes skyward in irritation. "And nothing can be done about it now. I have no desire to see her, even if she still loves me, as much as I might …." He stopped talking, not wishing to speak of how much he still loved the woman. He did wonder if things would be better if he had her, but then he remembered that having her meant struggling, fighting, always trying to convince her to stay and not to run away from him, and he knew he couldn't do that anymore, not the way he was now. Not after so much loss and so much pain.

Balin reached across the table to pat Kili's hand in a fatherly manner, a moment of intimacy Kili had been missing, even if he told himself he hadn't. Thorin had been absent in his preoccupation with this journey, and bringing Kili along only served to make Kili feel as though he was a child, not a man to be treated with respect. But still, the simple act of comfort from Balin was warming to him, even if just for a moment.

"What do you miss about her?" Balin asked quietly.

Kili glanced at Balin, surprised at the question. It wasn't typical of dwarves to encourage such intimate confessions in each other, and even Fili hadn't asked Kili this question. Kili sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and staring blankly across the room, thinking for a moment. "Everything. Even the things I hated about her, I miss." He shook his head at the last words, and Balin chuckled along with him at the thought.

"Aye, so it seems to be the way of things with women," Balin laughed. Kili laughed with him and felt himself smile, unable to resist Balin's laugh, his underused muscles aching at the feeling.

He sat considering the white haired dwarf. Even though Balin was much older than he was, Kili felt as though Balin was treating him as an equal, a friend. He hadn't felt that from anyone in a long while, finding instead people tiptoed around him, protecting him like a child. Reese had been the worst, actually, not sharing parts of herself with him, treating him as though he was fragile and needing to be protected from life, not even talking to him before she left as though he couldn't possibly have anything to say that might be important or helpful. As though he couldn't possibly understand where she was coming from. And he did understand, of course he did. He just couldn't believe she would disappear like that without giving him a say at all.

Kili sighed. "I miss how I felt around her. Even though she was always freaked out, always just a little bit skittish, I felt … safe, like nothing bad could happen." Balin nodded at him gently as he paused. "I actually fear for what the company must think of her because I don't think they saw in her what I did. She cares so deeply for other people. She's always helping, and she's fiercely loyal to the people she loves. Usually," Kili added wryly. "It was so hard for her to decide to come on the quest with us, to leave her people behind. She missed Adam and Julie horribly. Although she never really spoke of it, I could tell."

Kili stopped. He felt slightly sick talking about the things he loved about Reese. He didn't want to miss her, didn't want to think about how he would love to have her back in his life. He wanted to hold onto the hurt and anger because he knew it wasn't an option for him. He was different now, and he knew he wasn't able to handle her anymore. He wasn't able to put up with the crap. At this thought, he felt himself retreat into the safety of his hostility.

"But she is nothing but ikminshulk to me, now."

Balin sat considering Kili for a moment. Kili glanced at him, and the older dwarf looked as though he had something to tell Kili. "What is it?" Kili asked

Balin opened his mouth and closed it again, and then finally spoke. "I liked her," he shrugged, smiling at the dark prince. "She was a good lass, and you seemed to be good for her."

Kili laughed coldly. "Not good enough, obviously."

Balin sighed and pushed Kili's plate towards him. "Eat some more. We have a long journey ahead of us."

Kili obliged, forcing some bread down his throat that he followed with a mouthful of ale. He eyed the dwarf across from him. He realized he knew very little about Balin. Balin spent more time with Fili. Being both elder brothers, they had similar temperaments. Kili and Dwalin had more in common, and Kili realized he couldn't even remember a single time in his life before this moment that he had been alone with Balin. To him he had always been his grandfather's and uncle's counsellor and a warrior, nothing more. Slightly irritable and grumpy when he and Fili got into trouble as dwarflings, not that they didn't deserve it. And Balin had no family besides Dwalin.

"I suppose you're lucky to have avoided all of this muck with love and women, hey?" Kili joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

Balin glanced up at him in amusement. "Actually, I fell in love once."

Kili blinked, immediately regretting his insensitive words. He really could be too impulsive sometimes. "What happened?"

"She loved someone else, married him instead." Balin smiled gently. He didn't seem sad discussing it. "It was more than 100 years ago," he shrugged.

"Who?" Kili asked incredulously. He wondered if he knew the person who had stolen Balin's love.

"The King at the time," Balin answered, his eyes twinkling at Kili as he spoke.

Kili sat in his chair. "Gamil Amad?" he asked, astonished by Balin's confession. His mind whirled. Balin had been in love and rejected, which happened to dwarves all the time of course, but the personal connection made him react more to Balin's confession.

"I didn't know," said Kili. "I never realized the connection." His grandmother would have been quite a bit older than Balin at the time, which hardly mattered. "Does Thorin know?" Kili asked.

Balin shrugged. "Possibly. It hardly matters now," he said as he smiled gently at Kili. "But it gets easier, laddie, you'll see," Then he repeated his words from moments before, "But I really would hate to see you ruin your life in the meantime."

The day was cold and grey as Balin, Kili, and Thorin waited in the courtyard of the inn for the healer, who had just run inside for a moment. Kili had managed to find a bath and smelled much less like the inside of a rotting carcass. When the healer returned, Kili turned away while Thorin helped her onto her pony, but not before he saw Thorin slid his hand down the healer's thigh and be rewarded with a small smirk from her. Kili had been surprised at her garb. She was dressed as a dwarrowdam might for travel in black breeches and a red velvet coat that reached her thigh. Her hair was in a more elaborate style that complimented her unusual features as well as could be expected. She looked quite adorable actually, and Kili couldn't help noticing her tiny rounded bottom as Thorin hoisted her onto the pony before he turned away gritting his teeth, the buzzing in his head growing.

At last they were on the road again, travelling East. They would be travelling for several weeks, planning to spend a few nights in Rivendell, much to Thorin's chagrin. Thorin's relations with elves had improved significantly in the past months, but he still preferred to avoid them as much as possible. Staying at Rivendell was far too close to Adelaide for Kili's comfort, only a day's ride away, and the last thing he wanted to feel the pull towards Reese, or worse to encounter her at Rivendell should she be in attendance on one of her trading missions. He could only presume that she had returned to her previous work upon her return to her people.

The healer had exclaimed in excitement when she'd learnt they would be stopping at Rivendell. "Oh, I've always wanted to go there!" she'd said as they departed Bree. Kili had to turn his head away so that she didn't see the irritated expression on his face. Not that he spent any time looking at her to begin with. He avoided her as much as he possibly could, always riding ahead of their party so that he didn't have to see her.

He had to listen to her though. Balin appeared to be quite taken with her, and they chatted amicably throughout each day. She peppered Balin with questions about Erebor, his ancestors, dwarf customs, the company, the quest. She was very diplomatic about it, but she seemed to have a way of making Balin open up and chatter on incessantly, much to Kili's irritation.

Thorin's behaviour towards the healer was of a more physical nature, and he'd often hear giggles when they went to fetch water from the stream, which they always volunteered for until Balin and Kili stopped offering and just handed them the water skins whenever they were near water. Kili was surprised, however, at how chaste their behaviour was. They were never gone for any significant period of time, and unless Thorin was losing his touch, Kili was sure their behaviour towards each other never went farther than a hurried embrace in the trees.

Despite his avoidance of the healer, Kili quickly learnt his assessment of her had been quite inaccurate. She was clearly an honorable woman who loved his uncle dearly. It appeared she truly had been waiting for him in hopes that he would one day return. He'd had to endure hearing the story again as Balin had asked her about it. She and Thorin had been disgustingly sweet as they'd sat by the fire, legs barely touching, as they told them of how they'd met, how grumpy and intolerable Thorin had been towards her, and how she had always hoped he would return to her. They clearly left out several details and had reshaped the tale into a sweet love story that painted Thorin as a love struck puppy, which Kili knew couldn't be any farther from the truth.

Despite his eagerness to get back to Erebor, he was relieved when they'd finally arrived at Rivendell. He would have three days break at least from the lovers. He intended to spend those three days in his quarters and hopefully wouldn't be required to emerge for meals. He doubted this likelihood though, as it would likely be a source of concern if the younger prince of Erebor didn't join the king and Lord Elrond. But any break would be welcome before they continued on their journey.

ikminshulk = dirt

Amad = mother

Gamil = old


	5. Chapter 5

_Written by kkolmakov_

Wren, the former healer in the city of Bree, and to her own astoundment suddenly the future Queen Under the Mountain, stretched on a wide bed and felt her tired back relax. After days on the pony back, her spine was buzzing, and she thought she could hear something crack in her pelvis. She was lying in the silent dim room, on the pleasantly cool, smooth sheets, and her situation finally fully dawned on her. She gave it a thought and then pinched her arm. She immediately hissed, her skin was sensitive and would bruise even from a gentle poke, and then she lifted her hand and looked at it. One, two, three, four, five. All fingers present, no extra ones. She was not sleeping. She was in Rivendell, she just had the best bath in her life, and she was indeed travelling to the Lonely Mountain. The reason for her travel stubbornly reminded of itself, but she shoved it to the back of her mind for now. She did feel calmer after the bath, the second one in the course of the evening. The first one she took was before dinner at which she was introduced to none other but Lord Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, after which she had to share a meal with him, sitting on the right hand from her future husband Thorin Oakenshield. Wren considered pinching herself again, but it really hurt last time. She turned on her side and tried to will some sleep.

Her mind whirling, she soon understood it was easier to let all of the events of the last weeks rush into her mind than fighting her own railing emotions. She managed to organize her thoughts ten years ago when she lost her lover Aldacar, she was calm and composed seven years ago when Thorin Oakenshield appeared in her life and left as quickly, taking her heart with him, she could do it now. She closed her eyes and exhaled. She imagined a chest of drawers and pulled the first imaginary drawer.

Here lay her feelings for the Dwarven King, locked in it seven years ago, too painful to ever be touched, and suddenly flaring and flooding all her being. She allowed herself think back at the moment when she saw him in the infirmary for the first time. Dirty from the road, paler and wider than she remembered him, features harsher, his blue eyes burning, he was frozen in the middle of her infirmary, and she doubted her eyes. Her heart painfully clenched, and the room swayed. She took a deep breath then, willing herself not to hope for much, he was probably passing the city again, and stopped by, but then the pain and the love burst in her heart and her mind, and for the first time in her life she decided she did not care. She started running, the only thought in her head was to touch him, and she threw herself on his neck. When she was taking the last quick steps, she realized later, his arms opened, and he took a few steps to meet her.

She would laugh about it later, but at the moment he pressed her into him, she heard the sarcastic voice of her best friend in her head, "Are you out of your mind, Wren? Where is Smarty Pants Wren, dull and uptight, the little bossy know-it-all that we all know and love?" And she barked at the imaginary Thea in her head, "Shut up! I have this one chance, and I will not waste it! I have a life of heartbreak and loneliness ahead of me, I am not passing my only chance to be close to the man I love. Even if for one instant."

She chuckled in her larger than necessary bed in Rivendell and suddenly realized there were tears in her eyes. She clenched her jaw and willed them from spilling. He asked her to marry him. She agreed. He was a Dwarf, they did not play with such matters. He kissed her, and she literally felt her toes curl. He solemnly declared he would not bed her till the wedding night. She agreed again. On the other hand, she highly doubted he would last. Again, he was a Dwarf, they were known for their libidinousness. She was looking forward to experiencing it first hand. She thought of the short embraces in the bushes, their lips would meet, and he would lose control and press her into a tree. Then he would shake his head, in a gesture so reminiscent of a stroppy pony that she would giggle, and then he would drag himself from her, to her amusement and his obvious frustration. He would glare at her, and she would laugh. He probably seemed intimidating to others, but she only felt giddy and hesitantly playful with him. He desired her, she felt it in every touch. There were glances that scorched her, there were whispers that would make her skin tingle, and all she wanted was to press herself into him and forget the world existed.

Wren smiled and allowed her one little moment of weakness. She would think of him for one minute, and then this drawer would be closed. His eyes, the scorching palms, the surprisingly fluffy lashes, the lips, the shoulders… She felt suddenly hot in the chilly room and buried her burning face into the pillow. The large muscular build, the force and speed with which he moved, the regal posture, everything about him made her dizzy and enamoured. For seven years she had lived with a constant dull ache in her chest. It would reside in her blood, poisoning it. And now it was gone.

He was gentle, respectful, attentive. She momentarily remembered how she leaned to fill a water skin, and a comb slipped out of her hair. Her braids sprang to freedom, their ends dunking in the spring, and he moved, and to her shock she saw the comb, never having reached the ground, grasped in his hand. Astonished by the speed with which he could move, she stared at him, and he suddenly pecked her lips and grinned. He gently moved her braids behind her shoulders and handed her the comb. Something flashed in his eyes, and she thought back on all those accounts she had read of the meaning that hair had in the Dwarven culture. He slowly released her plaids, the curly tails sliding through his fingers, and there was something endlessly intimate and passionate in his eyes at that moment, and she could not help it. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his in an unrestricted kiss, perhaps for the first time in her life losing control thusly. Or the second. She did behave rather unseemly in the closet in the infirmary.

Her minute of mawkishness was over, and she shook her head. She had a lot to think of. She would see him in the morning, he would smile to her, and she would be able to ogle him as much as she liked. She was good at discreetly watching people. For years she managed to stay almost invisible for most people.

She sighed and pulled another imaginary drawer out. She was marrying a King. She was to become a Queen. She was to rule a country, a people, and none other but narrow-minded, bigoted, conservative Dwarves. She rolled on her back again and steepled her fingers on her middle. That would require a lot of work, and she would need to be smart about it. She did not doubt she could do it, become his Queen, become worthy of the honour, but establishing respect and submission from Dwarves would be a labourious task.

There were a few things that gave her hope. Firstly, she knew of how unquestionable Thorin's authority was for the Khazad. She had a chance to talk to some of them in these seven years, even once after the Battle of Five Armies, and she knew the story of the Quest for Erebor, the dragon and the battle with Orcs and Wargs. He had chosen her, she was his One, the thought of it made her feel warm and safe. They would not dispute his choice, they would doubt and probably hate and despise her, but no one would question her right to sit on the throne near him. And she would prove she had every right for it. She had his heart, she needed to gain his respect and admiration. And for that she needed allies.

That brought her to the second thought she found consoling. She thought, and she was very rarely wrong in interpreting the minds of people, she already had one friend in Erebor. Balin, son of Fundin, a white haired Dwarf accompanying her King on this trip, an attentive listener and a wonderful storyteller, amazingly agile for his age, was one third of all Dwarves Wren had at her disposal right now to base her perception of the Khazad. Given she understood that Balin followed Thorin's lead in his attitude towards her, she felt genuine affection in him. They seemed to establish wonderful relationships from the start. He was endlessly respectful, treating her as a Queen already, and she found his company very pleasant. She was also perceptive enough to understand that he was so willing to accept her as he was pleased by the changes in the King that her presence seemed to have brought.

A few nights ago all three of them were sitting around the fire, the King's nephew sitting a few feet away from them as usual, and without noticing it himself, Thorin started humming some melody. She had never heard him sing before, and she held her breath. His voice was low and velvet, pitch perfect, he followed the tune effortlessly, and she caught Balin's eyes. The older Dwarf looked very pleased, and she assumed such relaxed state was not characteristic for the King Under the Mountain. Judging by the cantankerous and bad-tempered disposition he had showed seven years ago, her assumption was right. The King suddenly stopped his humming and looked at the two of them. They probably were a hilarious pair, an older Dwarf with a cordial, fatherly smile on his lips, and an enamoured girl with wide open eyes and slightly dazed face.

"Is something the matter?" They both vigorously shook their head and pretended to be very busy with their dinner. And then she looked at Balin from the corner of her eye, and he nodded to her as if thanking her for the King's mood. She gave him a small smile, hoping he could see in her eyes that in no way she felt responsible for the changes. All three of them went back to pleasant silent companionship. The only thing tarnishing the evening was the dark brooding figure of the King's nephew sitting lost in his thoughts, leaning on a tree on the edge of their camp.

The thought of the third of her companions made her shuffle uncomfortably on her bed. Kili of the line of Durin was an unusual Dwarf. She had seen enough of the Khazad to understand that something was horribly wrong with the King's nephew. He seemed utterly broken, hardly keeping it together, unkempt, thinned. She was a healer and knew the signs of physical exhaustion when she saw them. The question she kept on asking herself was what could have happened to change him thusly. Because even through the darkness and constant agitation she saw now, she could see the glimpses of what he must have been before. A gorgeous young Dwarf, full of life, with the dark beautiful eyes that were made to sparkle with mirth and mischief, a mouth with lines sensual and strong, bottom lip full, a mouth that was destined to laugh and sing, strong jawline... Something had knocked down his defenses, the natural resilience of a Dwarf, his nerves in frenzy.

She thought she saw his hands shake, and she was certain it had nothing to do with his dependency on alcohol, though that was surprising as well. Dwarves were drinkers, but they were too stubborn and independent to allow anything to control them, including ale. To develop such habit, and he was obviously suffering from withdrawal, he would have to rely on ale to sustain him on everyday basis. He was pale, dark purple circles under his eyes, and in the time they spent travelling together he hardly slept. She had trouble sleeping too, she was always cold due to her thinness, and it had been almost ten years since she had to spend a night on the hard ground under an open sky. At night she could see him sitting, his hands constantly moving, fidgeting with a twig or a dagger, a dark disturbing energy buzzing in him. Kili was frightening her.

Every little thing about him made her distressed. His beard had obviously been let to grow out. She assumed it was short since he was an archer, but there was no bow on him at the time. The hands though bore the distinct markings left by arrows and a bowstring. Just like his uncle he had wonderful dark strands but they were dirty and were obviously not taken care of. For a Dwarf such negligence was astonishing. His clothes did not fit anymore, he must have lost a lot of weight.

She could see a great deal of resemblance between the two dark haired Dwarves, and she wondered if Kili was a remarkable swordsman just as his uncle, he obviously had the strength and the agility. But at the moment he looked like those mechanical toys when a screw went loose in them and their legs and arms would lose their coordination. Sometimes when he would get up, he would sway. Lack of sleep obviously did not help his balance. He had nightmares, there was no ale to knock him out at the end of the day.

She wondered for how long it had been going on. She would assume among other thing he was suffering from what healers called "soldier's heart." Those who had seen battle, especially if it was their first one, came back from it changed, broken, haunted. She wondered if he had lost someone dear in the Battle of Five Armies. She knew his brother lived and wondered if the other prince of Eredor was the same ghost of a person as she saw in front of her.

But she knew there was something else. Dwarves were a hardy race, they went through their lives with strong beliefs and stubborn attitude. She would think of Thorin, his arrogance, his certainty that he was always right, his obvious ability to bounce back from hardships. She knew of the Battle of Azanulbizar, when he had lost his brother, grandfather and any hope to reclaim the Kingdom of Moria. He fought, he lived, he became the King his people needed at that time. Something did not allow Kili to overcome the mental wounds of his battles.

Among other things, she thought sadly, it was possibly his uncharacteristic for a Dwarf astuteness and self-awareness. Even in the King, as enamoured as she was with him, she could see the Dwarven hardheadedness and self-assurance. She foresaw a lot of negotiating and diplomatic delicacy on her part in the future. Kili had sharp, canny eyes. He knew when he was wrong and knew what was happening to him. And she knew on her own experience, there was nothing more painful in life than understanding the evils of the world and the flaws in oneself, to perceive what nightmare one's life had turned into, and not being able to do anything about it. Kili of the line of Durin knew he was degrading and could do nothing about it.

At the beginning of their travel she assumed he hated her because she was no Dwarf, a woman undeserving to be his uncle's wife, but she soon understood it was not her he hated. He could not stand what she signified. Happiness, requited love, and most of all future. She was Thorin's future, and he was hers.

Rather quickly Wren understood that Kili's heart bore the wounds of rejection. What kind of person would turn their back to a Dwarf like him? There was strength, and pride, and strong will in him. Someone broke him, all hope for fullfilled future lost for him. And Wren was certain it was done cruelly and unjustly, not allowing him to save his dignity and even more so making him doubt his worth. If he was indeed like his uncle, and Wren saw a keen resemblance in their temperaments, that was the worst of blows for him. To destroy a Dwarf one needs to destroy their pride.

And then she thought of him being a Dwarf and possibly having lost his love, and she would feel even more terrified. For them to meet their One and not being with them was a torture. Through her seven years without the King she often wondered why it hurt so much. Why was it that everyday she lived as if in a dark cloud, every cell in her body in torment, she would go through each day and no matter what she did she remembered the excruciating void inside her. She thought she was being mawkish, childish, she would scold herself, and then dreams would come. She lived, she served, she danced, she laughed, but she carried him in her heart every moment of every hour. She could not imagine what pain such longing would cause to a Dwarf. They were taught from their childhood that there was one and only one to reside in their heart and their mind. Given, it did not spread on carnal matters, but Dwarves loved once. Had Kili already met his One and lost her or him?

Wren was a healer and no matter what her life were to be now, she could not neglect her duty to treat and to help. She so often felt like just jumping on her feet and rushing to him. Yelling at him, shaking him, embracing him, crying for him and with him... Her hands would shake from the piercing pity and desire to help. More and more darkness was gathering in him, and soon it would spill and ruin his life. The hour when he could not control himself anymore would come, and he would rage and bring ruin to himself. She felt her heart clench but she willed herself to sit on her spot by the fire and avoid his burning eyes. There was nothing to be done. He would reject her attempts to interfere, she would only make him retreat in himself more, and were he to lash on her, she would cause a spite between him and his uncle. No one could help him but himself, and unfortunately he could not either.

Wren lay in her bed in Rivendell and hoped that Erebor was inhabited by Balins and not Kilis, and she knew that it probably was. The King's nephew with his tormented mind and dark mood was no typical Dwarf. The rest of them, resilient, hard working, conventional and endlessly practical, had certainly moved on from the war and were rebuilding their life for the glory of Erebor and their King. She just needed to show them she could be their Queen and support their rise to prosperity and peace.

Wren pulled her knees to her chest and shivered. She seemed to always be cold, and the last few nights she had had such a lovely sleep. She was embarrassed to think of it, but the last few mornings she woke up in the arms of the King Under the Mountain. One night he was woken up possibly by the loud chattering of her teeth. He looked at her for a few moments, and she tried to smile to him, but her nose was probably blue and the smile looked more like a grimace. He silently got up and lay near her. She could feel the heat coming from his body even though he did not touch her, through the clothes and his brigandine, and she threw all proprietary away and pressed into him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her nose in his neck. He chuckled, probably from the coldness of its tip, and she felt her body relax and sleep taking her over. In the morning she woke up, him wrapped around her, and she was surprised by how familiar and comfortable his bone crushing embrace felt. And then she blushed, suddenly imagining how inappropriate they looked. But Kili was nowhere to be seen, and Balin was sitting by the fire as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening in the camp, and she allowed herself a small indulgence. She nuzzled his neck, coarse hair on his throat scratching her skin, and she felt a low rumble in his chest, under the palm she apparently put over his heart at night. She was too embarrassed to look at him and scampered busying herself with the usual morning errands. The day went on as all the days before it, and in the evening he just took his place near her. She curled into him and sighed happily.

She shuddered and wistfully thought that she would happily exchange the comfortable, luscious bed in the Elven palace for another night on the hard ground with pinecones trying to drill through her spine but with the King's warmth and smell of his skin enveloping her. There was a solution to her problem, but it took her another half an hour of struggling with herself to realize that as improper and indecorous as she knew her actions would be, she was going to do it. She exhaled and climbed out of the bed. The King's room was down the passage, the maid showing her to her room told her, and Wren stepped into the corridor. The floor was cold, and she regretted not putting on her shoes. In the darkness and silence of the passages of Riverdell she quickly slid by the row of the doors and not giving herself a moment to chicken out and turn back, she carefully pushed the door to the bedchambers of Thorin Oakenshield.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: And here is the long-awaited update :)**

**_Written by RagdollPrincess_  
**

Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain, sat soaking his aching muscles in a steaming bath alone in his room in Rivendell, his long hair unbraided and floating in the water around him. There were lilac petals in the water, and he wondered where the elves found lilac petals in winter. The scent reminded him of Wren, who always seemed to smell like the sweet purple flower. Maybe she had pressed them into her clothes or kept dried flowers from summer.

They had arrived late that afternoon on their journey back to Erebor from Bree. It was the first time he'd found himself truly alone in weeks, and he disliked it greatly, which surprised him even more greatly. He found he missed Wren, the Healer from Bree, and his future wife. He'd thought he would enjoy having a moment to himself, but as soon as the door had shut behind him to his room, loneliness had set in. He wasn't accustomed to the feeling.

Regardless, he was enjoying soaking in the hot water. He was used to bathing once a week, and it had been several weeks since he'd been able to. The streams they passed on their road back to Erebor were frozen in mid winter, and so bathing opportunities had been few.

His thoughts strayed to when he last saw Wren, at dinner. She had been deeply engrossed in conversation with Elrond. It had been quickly established that while Elrond and Thorin had nothing to talk about, Wren and Elrond had a great deal to discuss. They discussed at length Elven healing methods, a topic of great interest to them both. They'd become engrossed to the point where they'd lost track of time over the dinner, and Elrond hadn't even acknowledged Thorin's presence during the meal.

Thorin had been horribly jealous the entire dinner, which was also uncharacteristic of him. He'd never been in a relationship where he would have cause to be jealous. His attachments had always been open ended.

He didn't know how to manage feeling jealous. He dealt with it by trying to calmly watch his future wife as she spoke with the Elven lord, while enjoying the excellent cheese the elves had served. He was tiring of observing without touching her, but there was nothing to be done about it. He noticed she had a voracious appetite. She ate small bites like a bird, but he'd been delighted by how much she'd eaten in her delicate and precise way. He'd smiled at the thought and was reminded of another meal on the road.

They'd been camping, and she'd been sitting with Balin and Thorin by the fire. Kili had been sitting off to the side, sulking as usual, which Thorin had been finding irritating and was glad he did not have to face directly. They'd been eating fish, and she'd suddenly pushed a water skin into his hand, her fingers stroking his wrist slightly before she pulled away. She clearly expected him to drink the water.

He'd looked at her in surprise, and she'd also seemed shocked by her own actions, clearly realizing she'd just treated a grown dwarf, King Under the Mountain no less, as a child. She'd blushed a deep red, something he was noticing she did quite a bit and which he enjoyed quite thoroughly, often doing things on purpose just to make her blush. She'd rushed to explain herself then. "Fish have dark blood," she'd declared hastily, "so you need more water," her face still flaming. He'd chuckled and had lifted the skin to his mouth, emptying it completely, dramatically shaking it in the air afterwards to show her it was empty, that he'd been a good boy and had done what he was told. He'd heard Balin's quiet laughter at the scene as Wren had dropped her head back to her own meal. Thorin had smiled at his old friend who grinned back at him, both equally enthralled by her.

He laughed again at the memory as he settled deeper into the water. He rather enjoyed this directive maternal way of being she had, the way she had of patting his shoulder or stroking his arm lovingly. He'd not been cared for in such a way except when he was quite young, having to grow up rather quickly after Smaug's attack. He didn't think he would like it, but somehow when Wren was taking charge of him he had no desire except to comply, if for no other reason than that it brought her such pleasure.

She truly delighted him. He loved her deeply, but he also genuinely liked her. She made him laugh and he was never safe from surprise when she was around, always making him take pause with an unusual perspective on things or her unusual treatment. She seemed much older than her years, although he was painfully aware that he was far more advanced in age than she was. He was starting to feel old, had aches that didn't go away quickly. He wondered if she felt as though she was marrying an old dwarf.

He realized that he'd only had two months to get to know Wren, and at that they were hardly courting. He had been her patient at the time, and she'd maintained a detached distance from him for most of the time he was requiring her care. His nephews had thought he was insane when he'd told them the story of their meeting and that he intended to seek out a healer he hardly knew seven years ago. Thorin then realized that the same could be said of her. When he'd been in search of her, he'd only hoped he would find her, unattached. However, he hadn't considered that she had been waiting for him after only caring for him for two months as her patient. He laughed again. They made quite the absurd pair indeed, both having faith that the other would return into their lives after such a brief encounter.

He noticed that she looked at him differently now. She'd always seemed cool and detached before, and he now realized she had been guarding her feelings. But now he caught beautiful loving expressions on her face, and her eyes truly shone with affection when she looked at him. He often couldn't help but wink at her at times like this, delighting particularly in how she would blush when he did.

His mind wandered as the image of Wren's blush lingered in his memory, and he recalled that Kili had not been at the meal that night. Kili had been shown to his chamber upon arrival and had not been seen by Thorin since. Thorin had to admit he was glad Kili had not made an appearance. He was beginning to look sickly and was causing alarm. Thorin wasn't sure if Kili would have been able to maintain any sort of composure that evening as he seemed hardly able to conduct himself appropriately at all these days.

Kili was like a son to him and might be the closest thing to a son he'd ever have. He wasn't sure that he and Wren would be able to have children. He'd never heard of a human and dwarf conceiving a child. He knew Wren likely had similar concerns, considering her experience as a midwife. It made him sad that he might not ever be able to give Wren children of her own.

But Kili really was like a son to him. Since Kili's father had died when Dis was still carrying Kili, Thorin had been the only father figure Kili had ever really known. Kili had looked to Fili this way as well, but a brother wasn't the same.

Being in the bath thinking of raising Kili reminded him of a time when he was bathing Fili and Kili as young children. They usually bathed together as keeping the two in the same place under supervision was the easiest way to prevent disaster. They loved their baths, and usually these times were filled with laughter and a large wet mess.

Kili had tended to play in the water more than Fili did. Fili understood he had a job to do when he was in the bath, which was to get clean, while Kili wanted to splash and play with toys Bofur had made them. Fili had been quite a serious child, and Thorin had always been secretly grateful Fili had his brother to lighten him up. Fili started to have more fun as he got older, but as a child he'd been very reserved, bordering on severe, although always gentle with his younger brother.

During this particular instance, Fili had been sitting in the water, as he always did, washing or playing calmly with his boat. This one time that came to mind, Kili had for whatever reason simply unable to tolerate being in the water. Thorin had tried everything to coax Kili into the water and was at his wit's end, resolving instead to bath the thrashing child as quickly as possible in whatever water still remained in the tub. It had been over a week since Kili's last bath, and he was completely filthy so there was no way they could skip the bath that evening.

Kili had been screaming and hollering, and Thorin had been sure that they could hear his wails all the way to Bree. This was something Kili had never grown out of, he'd always been loud, whereas Fili always maintained a quieter demeanor, patient, and soft spoken, although unlike his younger brother Fili had an intensity to him that needed to be checked at times.

During this bath, Fili had suddenly picked up the bath brush and smacked Kili's bottom with it. Kili, who worshipped his older brother, had been so surprised he'd stopped crying immediately. Thorin had been stunned and stared at Fili in shock. It was completely uncharacteristic of Fili to be violent. Even though he was excelling in his weapons training, which he'd begun as soon as he'd been able to lift a wooden sword, he approached it respectfully, seeing violence as a means to an end that should only be chosen if no other option existed

"Fili! Why would you do such thing?" Thorin had cried, meanwhile not missing an opportunity to quickly bathe the still stunned Kili, who was now sucking his thumb in silent shock.

"You told me when I am king to only use force when all else failed. You'd tried everything already. This was the next logical step, uncle." Fili had surveyed his brother curiously. "It appears to have worked."

Thorin's beard twitched at the memory. He was tortured seeing Kili go through what he was. He only ever did things to help Kili, to ensure his happiness, however misguided his efforts might be. No one knew it but he was worried sick about Kili. He knew he appeared angry, and he often was angry and annoyed with Kili, but at times he was aware that his anger and annoyance was a result of his fear that he was losing his dear beloved nephew, the boy he'd raised since infancy and had done everything possible to protect from harm.

Kili only ever wanted to be loved. Thorin had a hard time being careful not criticizing him, but hurting him was like kicking a puppy. Kili only wanted to please. Criticism seemed to roll of Fili's back, but Kili seemed to crumble under even the slightest weight. It was for this reason that Thorin had not wanted Kili to come on the quest. Kili had been heartbroken when Thorin had told him he would not be coming. Fili was going, and Kili assumed he would be too.

Dis had been pleased with Thorin's decision. She'd understood why Fili had to go, but she saw no reason for Kili to not stay home and stay safe. Not that Kili wasn't able to take care of himself. In fact, in battle he was deadly, beyond capable. He'd demonstrated his skill repeatedly in training, as an escort for merchants, and in small skirmishes they'd encountered.

His skill with a bow was unequalled, and he nearly rivalled his brother with a sword. His insecurity drove him to excessive perfectionism, always afraid he wouldn't be good enough. Few knew this about him as he outwardly came across as light, carefree, and even irresponsible. Thorin suspected many saw him as the reckless spoilt younger heir of Durin who'd been allowed to do whatever he liked, always getting into trouble, and getting the older heir into trouble with him. In ways he indeed had been over indulged and over protected. Dis and Thorin held Fili to such high standards that they almost made up for it with Kili.

Maybe that's why Kili had such a thirst to prove himself. Thorin remembered one argument with his youngest sisterson many years ago when Kili had angrily said that all Thorin and Dis saw was Fili, Thorin's perfect heir, and that Kili was just a disappointment, not good enough, so he had to be treated like a baby. Thorin had been a stunned and couldn't believe that Kili thought this. Thorin had tried to explain that he and Dis thought no such thing and only wanted to protect Kili. They couldn't with one child so why not with the other. Kili had stormed from the room, shouting, "I'm just as good as he is!"

Regardless, when the time for the quest came, Fili would hear none of Kili's staying behind. Where he went, his brother went, without argument. Thorin had been taken aback by his eldest nephew's sudden defiance of him. He saw the determination in him of the king he would one day become, standing strong for what he saw as right. His normally mild mannered nephew had been furious even at the suggestion that Kili stay back. If only he could for Kili. If only Kili had someone to show him how worthwhile he was.

It was worse that Kili knew exactly what was happening to him. Everytime Thorin looked in Kili's eyes he felt as though he was looking at a drowning man who had realized he was beyond saving, a chilling look of terror and sadness in his eyes. If only Reese hadn't left. Thorin was sure she would have been able to keep Kili safe, kept him afloat.

Reese Jacobson was even more complicated than Thorin had realized. Thinking of female dwarves, his sister was complicated. She was stubborn and angered quickly. But dwarves weren't usually complicated the way Reese was. He'd seriously misjudged how hidden she kept parts of herself. Reese had depths she'd protected everyone from seeing until she was pushed.

He had truly through that Reese and Kili would be bonded for life. They fit together perfectly. Watching them together was like watching a perfectly choreographed dance. They moved as though they were always connected, always aware of what the other was doing. It was beautiful. There was no other word to describe it.

He had been furious with her for her impulsivity and for just leaving without a word. It was a childish way to deal with things. She was a mother herself and there was no excuse to act that way. He'd been so angry with Reese he probably hadn't even seen to Kili as he should.

He had to admit to himself that he also missed Reese. He considered her a friend, and he had few of those. He'd been delighted about the possibility of her marrying Kili. And it was likely for this reason that he could see her point of view, understood how panicked she must have been. He'd actually been irritated with himself for not anticipated her move, but he'd been preoccupied with the quest and had assumed that she would stay her course, as a dwarven woman might have done. She'd been right when she'd told him their lack of commitment was the reason they worked together, and he should have known she'd take flight.

She'd been different when he'd seen her in Bree. There was a heaviness to her, a sadness, as though she was carrying a burden. Her gaze had been distant, guarded. She'd never looked at him that way before. And there was something else too. A cautiousness, defensiveness. He'd surprised himself when he overreacted when he'd grabbed her collar. He would never raise a hand to a woman, but his relationship with Reese was different. She was like family to him now, and in ways he treated her the way he would his nephews. But he'd been even more surprised when she'd cowered protectively over herself, clearly afraid of him, moving to a safe place in the room far away from him. The Reese he knew would have reacted angrily. She might not have outright fought him, but she would have at least struggled. Unable to determine the cause of this behaviour, or if he was just imagining things, he dismissed the thought disinterestedly.

He considered her words when he saw her and knew they held the weight of truth. He had put Kili in harms way. She had been foolish and childish, but she hadn't done anything that would warrant the type of reaction Kili was having. Thorin was supposed to protect him, and he hadn't realized keeping Kili safe meant emotionally in battle, not physically. Few dwarves reacted to battle the way Kili had, having nightmares and turning to excessive drink. But Thorin knew Kili wasn't typical. He'd been unprepared.

He wasn't sure he had made the right decision keeping them apart. Was he right that she would be harmful to Kili? Thorin had been so angry, so protective of Kili, and so riddled with his own guilt of Kili's state that he hadn't thought his decision through. But what was he to do now? If he told Kili now, Kili would be furious with him. But was it possible that even now Reese could bring Kili back from where no other could follow.

She seemed to want to be with Kili, though. She said she loved him. Said that it would be good for Kili to be with someone who loved him. Was she right? He doubted it. However, one thing he knew about Reese Jacobson was that she was no fool. She may be blinded by her own past and insecurities, but she wasn't stupid. But he'd made the mistake of interfering once before by forcing those two together, and he wasn't going to make the mistake again. He would do his best to undo what he'd done before by keeping them far apart from each other.

It was ironic to him, in a way, that he was trying so hard to keep them separate considering it was because of them that he'd begun to consider searching for Wren. Seeing Kili and Reese together, even deciding that they should be together, had made him wonder why he was being so rigid with himself if he did not have the same expectations of Kili. The answer of course was obvious that he had to hold himself to the highest standard as the future King Under the Mountain, which he hoped was a burden Kili would never have to bear . But seeing how well they fit together, how they made each other better, stronger, had made him second guess his decision to question Mahal in making Wren his One.

His thoughts remained on his future wife. His wonderful tantalizing future queen. He groaned as just the thought of her made his cock harden. He felt his skin stretch slightly as his cock became fully erect, standing above the water.

He realized for the first time in weeks he was alone and could relieve himself of some of the agony he'd been in since leaving Bree. His erections were starting to become painful, and he had to go to great lengths to hide them. He'd caught Balin smirking at him knowingly a couple of times.

It was important to him that Wren remain untouched until their wedding night. He had never cared about such things before, but everything was different with Wren. He'd never even thought himself to be the marrying kind, but the battle and nearly dying had changed that. He'd realized how lonely his life was, how isolated he was, and how being so closed off from others weakened him.

His erection was quickly becoming painful, worsened by the thought of his wedding night, as he brought his hand to himself for the first time in weeks, his bent knees falling open to give him access to himself. He knew he would be quick, grateful finally for the release. He was efficient as he palmed himself, not even bothering to touch his sac, and only needed three pulls before he was catching his seed with the towel he'd draped over the bathtub side. He barely made a noise, only whimpering slightly as he came. He hardly felt any relief as he tossed the towel aside and laid back in the tub, but some relief was better than nothing.

His future wife was the most enticing woman he'd ever seen in his life. She wasn't traditionally beautiful, but to him she was endlessly appealing. He never found her unattractive. The outfit she'd chosen to travel in was only worsening his state. A vision of her legs clad in her black boots and trousers, her thin but shapely thighs and her round pert bottom. The coat she wore was supposed to cover her bottom, but it clung to her in an enticing way. Often he found himself riding behind her on his pony, his eyes glued to her bottom as she chatted cheerfully with Balin.

He groaned as he thought of Wren's bottom. It was the perfect size to fit in his hand. The things he'd imagined doing to that bottom of hers. He'd begin by cupping it while she rode him. Then he'd explore her with his tongue. He particularly wanted to run his tongue along the little fold of skin where her thighs and bottom met. And then he'd put his mouth on her, from behind, tonguing her small nub, drinking in her juices, circling puckered hole. He fully intended to ravish her glorious backside when the time came for them to lie together.

Thorin shifted at the thought of his hands on her bottom, cupping and spreading it as she rode him, his fingers pressing into the folds as they stretched around his cock while it slid into her. He wanted to watch as he stretched her, as she widened to take in his girth.

He laughed aloud and stared astonished as his cock rose from the water again, stiff and already leaking precum as though he had not had a release only moments before. He brought his hand to himself. He stroked his balls lazily, neglecting his erection for now, intended to draw this climax out more enjoyably, as he allowed his mind to wander over Wren's delectable body, lingering on his favourite parts. Her collarbones. Her adorable tiny feet that he'd seen on occasion when she'd removed her boots to warm them by the fire. Her delightful breasts.

Her breasts were so small and perfect. His mouth actually watered as he imagined taking them into his mouth. He wondered if they were sensitive, if she would enjoy his running his tongue around small peaks.

He usually enjoyed larger breasts, but Thorin imagined Wren's small breasts could fit perfectly in his hand as he ran his thumb over the tips gently, and he craved to touch them. He had lost several nights of sleep wondering if her peaks were as red as her lips.

His movements quickened as he tugged at his engorged cock, imagining himself straddling her chest, his slick cock sliding between her small perfect breasts before he came, dusting her throat with his seed like pearls strung across her neck and chest.

He tried to imagine that his hand was hers, her cool strong hand stroking him gently. He couldn't convince himself, though, leaving him disappointed. His mind shifted instead to another image, that of her lying below him as he thrust into her, her wild orange hair splayed on the bed like a pillow, a red blush creeping down her neck and breasts as they swayed with each snap of his hips, as he lost himself in her burning gaze.

He was surprised that he found this image so powerful. He normally preferred taking a woman from behind, finding it endlessly arousing, but he wanted to watch Wren's face as she fell apart before him, wanted her to see his love for her. His desire for her was so great that if she only allowed him to bed her twice a day, so much less than what he truly wished for, he'd be satisfied. He knew those of the Race of Men didn't have the insatiable hunger of dwarves and had prepared himself, in fact wasn't even concerned, for having to curb his desires to such infrequent beddings.

His tastes and experiences were varied, but he found he had no desire to subject Wren to anything she might not expect. It wasn't that she was cold. He expected her appetite would be quite healthy for a woman of Men. He only felt no need to explore unique tastes.

He'd be more than satisfied simply happy being able to lie next to her each night, wake next to her each morning, rule his kingdom with her. She would be his partner in all things, and he could ask for no greater pleasure in life. It was with this thought that he finally climaxed the second time, unexpectedly, as he quickly grappled for the discarded towel. He collapsed back into the tepid water, still unsatisfied but feeling he could manage. For now.

Thorin rose from the bath. The room filled with the sudden thunderous sound of the water streaming from his body. Stepping from the tub, he decided it was too late to ask for it to be removed and would leave the water until morning. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he saw to his hair, drying it with a towel, carefully combing it, and weaving the braids on either side of his face. He would finish rebraiding the rest in the morning. He hadn't been able to engage in this ritual on the road, one he looked forward to sharing with Wren when they were married. For the first time in weeks he felt and smelled clean. Feeling sleep edging along the corners of his vision, he slid between the sheets of his bed, his hand snaking under his pillow to grip a dagger as he succumbed to the night.


	7. Chapter 7

_Written collaboratively by __kkolmakov__ and __RagdollPrincess__._

The dwarf in the room lay stretched naked on his bed finally clean after a bath. His room was dark. The candles had burnt out hours ago, but he was far from sleep, his mind whirling from the latest events. A knock sounded at the door and he tensed in irritation at the intrusion. Rising from the bed, he moved towards the door and flung it open, fully aware he was stark naked and hoping it would send a clear message that he did not wish to be disturbed. He hardly cared that he was a guest in the House of Elrond and should be concerned with making a good impression on whoever was on the other side of the door.

He was surprised to find Wren, the Healer from Bree. She was clad in a short light blue nightgown that was nearly sheer, made of layers of complicated lace. He blinked rapidly for a moment, confused as to why he would suddenly think that Reese Jacobsen had one just like it. Shaking the thought from his mind, he noticed a light was shining behind her and he could make out her thin figure through the transparent layered fabric. His eyes lingered on the swell of her small breasts, the red of her small peaks visible through the fabric. Her appearance bordered on obscene, and he wondered if she'd encountered anyone on the way from her room dressed this way.

She looked horribly confused and then startled as she realized his naked state, glancing behind her in slight panic. He smirked in amusement, taking great pleasure in her discomfort. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the door frame casually.

"What can I do you for, honourable healer?" His tone was sarcastic, and she shifted between her small feet. Blush was burning on her cheeks.

"I apologise for the intrusion, Master Kili," she stammered and twitched her nose in her habitual nervous gesture. "I am afraid I must have… All the passages look the same, and I was not heading to you room, I assure you..." Her voice trailed away, and she made a small step back.

He was going to turn back into his room, planning to slam his door loudly into her face, when he realized that while her head was lowered in a seemingly demure gesture, she was studying his naked body, and the flush on her skin was anything but embarrassment. She was taking short shallow breaths in, and he saw her small peaks rise under the lace, bright tips puckered.

Turning towards her slowly, his mouth stretched wide in a feral smirk as he approached her, reaching for her arm. His large hand clasped around her upper arm roughly, and he paused to see what she would do. She did not move, and he saw her red lips open slightly. He pulled her closer and lowered his face to her. She tried to turn away, but he held her in place and brought his mouth to her ear. "Honourable healer, are you sure it's a mistake that you arrived at my door this evening?" His voice was low, dangerous and lethal, and his smirk widened as she shivered at his tone. She tried to pull her arm away, but he noticed her attempt was quite feeble. He'd been travelling with her for several weeks now and knew she was stronger than she looked.

Suddenly her face changed, and her lips twitched. She raised her eyes at him, and he was shocked by the hungry burning in them. She licked her lips, "Not all mistakes are to have unpleasant consequences, aren't they, honourable Dwarf?" Her voice had dropped lower, and suddenly her narrow hand lay on his chest under his right clavicle. She curled her fingers, and her short nails dug into his skin.

He paused for a moment, considering her before casting a glance down the hall. "Who saw you come here?" He growled.

"No one," she suddenly brought her hand to his cock, and he tensed as she grasped him tightly, making her intent clear. "No one will know I assure you."

Gripping her arm even more tightly, he swung her into the room, not caring for how rough he was being as he slammed the door and shoved her back against it. She hissed as her back hit the wood, thudding dully. Pinning her to the door with his hips, he brought his hand to the flimsy nightdress and grasped her small breasts.

"Not much to offer, I see," he murmured cruelly.

She suddenly appeared to come to her senses and tried to pull away. "Wait… That is madness… No, no, I belong to your uncle," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Come now, Wren," he emphasized her name cruelly as he used it for the first time since he'd met her. He smirked darkly as he said the words. "It was you that decided you should come to my door tonight. What could possibly have changed?"

She flared her nostrils in irritation and seemingly decided to move towards the door. She paused then. Suddenly turning, she pressed her lips against his feverishly, moaning as his hardened cock pushed painfully against her hip. He brought his hand to her jaw and grasped it in a painful grip as he tore his mouth off hers.

"Do not do that again," he snarled. "You have but one purpose here." His eyes bore into hers and for a moment he thought she might leave. She did not.

Arching toward him she purred languidly, "So no kisses then? Good thing, lips have other purposes," and he felt his cock harden even more. Her hand slid from his chest now and she confidently pushed it and locked her fingers around the base of his member. She clicked her tongue in approval. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she slowly knelt and he saw her small tongue run over her lips.

He stood leaning on the wall, his hand buried in her orange curls, as she took him in her mouth. Her lips slipped along his length, and he groaned, dropping his head back. For an innocent girl she was painting herself to be, she was surprisingly good. His tip dove deep into her throat, she was massaging him, her fingers mirroring the movement on his testes. He looked at her and saw her eyes closed in obvious pleasure. He grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked, making her open her eyes. "You are a bit of a whore, aren't you, honourable healer?"

He saw challenge in her eyes, and he felt livid. Her curls still grasped in his hand, he pulled and she released his cock with a popping sound. He then moved his hand, onto her neck, and made her get up. She was breathing heavily and rose, her body visibly shaking.

He pressed his hand into her shoulder and grabbed the hem of her night dress, pulling her gown up and lifting her as she wrapped her legs around him. He carried her to the bed and threw her down unceremoniously, leering at her as he considered her spread before him. "What would Uncle think if he knew you were such a tramp?" He murmured. She cocked a brow at him as she dragged a small foot up the inside of his thigh until she grazed his sac gently. He wondered for a moment if she was going to kick him and drew back slightly. Her grin widened at his moment of vulnerability, which irritated him.

"I am rather good at pretending to be less experienced than I am, honourable nephew," she drew the moniker with venom in her voice, and he growled. She gave out a short throaty laugh.

He flipped her on her stomach, not wishing to see into her eyes, and she stretched on her stomach cat like, raising her small bum in the air for him. Tangling his hand in her hair, he leaned forward slightly to hiss in her ear.

"Is this what you envisioned when you came here, Healer?"

He let go of her hair and grabbed her arms under her elbows, jerking her back towards him and off the bed. Her knees hit the floor, and she moaned. He settled behind her, aligned his cock with her entrance and pushed in. She was very tight, due to her small size, but she was also clenching her inner muscles, and he rasped, "Enjoying yourself, honourable healer?" She made a small whining noise.

He rolled over her, and she moaned. Her small frame on the bed, delicate slender back and pale skin were a stark contrast to the rough bed covers, and he wondered if the coarse fabric was rubbing on her sensitive peaks. He thrust several times, each of his movement met with a quiver of her quim and a soft gasp. He could see half of her face pressed to the covers, and suddenly he felt furious. A corner of her lips was curled up in pleasure, and in some sort of dark triumph, and he ground his teeth.

He rose slightly, rolling his hips into her harder, and then he placed on knee on the bed near her. He physically dominated her, towering above her as he ploughed his hips into hers. The angle changed, his cock went into her so much deeper, and she cried out. It was a sound of pleasure, but he understood there was pain mixed in it, and he felt a vengeful satisfaction. He drew his cock back slowly, letting her feel it, anticipating the next assault. His hands were pressed into the bed near her head, and he froze, his member almost out of her. He could see she was shaking, her spine and shoulder blades looking exceptionally vulnerable, and he slammed his hips into her.

She yelled, thrashed under him, her hands stretched ahead of her and clawing at the fabric of the sheets. He rose again, this time he shifted his weight on his knee on the bed, and picked up her arms under her elbows again. She had that sort of skin that would bruise easily, and he squeezed her arms harder. He wondered if he could leave ten sharp finger marks on her pale skin. He certainly could try.

Suddenly her whole body tensed, and she started quaking in an obviously violent climax, moaning loudly and pulling at her arms. He saw her biting at the sheets, and he sped up, his hips snapping in even harsher punishing movements. He thought she whimpered asking him to halt, and he jerked her arms to make her quiet.

"More," she whined arching her back. He could feel she was close again and changed angles to peg against a more sensitive spot.

The new angle pushed her over the edge again. "Enjoy while you can, honourable healer," he snarled through gritted teeth as he plunged deeply and quickly. "You'll return to you _beloved _before long. Although I must say he doesn't seem to have been able to do the deed as of yet. I wonder if he'll be enough for your appetites." Somehow the satisfaction he felt at the thought of defiling his uncle's prize, punishing him unknowingly for his blissful happiness and torturous decision to drag Kili on this journey, served to hasten his own climax as a groan built deep within him.

Kili jerked awake with a gasp, cold from lying on the bed uncovered, the horrifying image from the dream tattooed on his mind. He felt disgusted by the hardness of his cock and ignored it angrily. He rose from the bed and reached for his clothing, realizing his traveling clothes had been replaced with warm soft trousers and tunic and a long black coat. Pulling them on he was unnecessarily rough as he shoved his cock into the trousers. Feeling he was about to suffocate in the room that played the setting of his disgusting dream he quickly went to the door and let himself quietly into the hallway.

**A/N: Mwuahahahahahaha :D**


	8. Chapter 8

_Written by kkolmakov_

Although the shadow slipping into Thorin's room moved silently, after years of living in constant danger he felt its presence without opening his eyes. Slowly, without changing his breathing, he slid his hand under the pillow, his fingers closing over the hilt of his wide Dwarven dagger. The stranger moved from the door towards his bed, surprisingly swift in the dark, and Thorin lunged from under the covers, the blade in one hand, near his hip, in a well trained position, from which a short forceful thrust would be most efficient against a tall opponent. With his left hand he aimed at the chest of the person moving between the furniture, estimating where the solar plexus would be. At the very last moment the shadow shrank away from him, and his fist only just scraped what he immediately realized was a cheekbone. The visitor tumbled on the floor backwards, over a low settee, and Thorin heard an undoubtedly female squeak. Still under the intensity buzzing through his veins Thorin leaned in, and since his eyes had already accustomed to the darkness of the room he saw a frail figure on the floor.

"I have to say, honourable King," the healer's voice was sarcastic, "That is not exactly the welcome I expected to receive in your bedroom. I am slightly concerned for our marital life..." He straightened up in shock. She moved on the floor, her arms in white nightdress flailing, visible in the dim moonlight that as Thorin realized was now coming from the window, and he hurriedly stretched his arm to help her rise. Her cold palm lay in his, and he pulled her up.

And then he remembered that he was completely bare. He opened his mouth to warn her, when she stepped to the nearest table and lit the lamp on it. And then she squeaked again and covered her face with her hands.

He made a step back and was pulling a cover off the bed to hide his starkness, when he realized what he saw a second before she covered her face. He immediately forgot the covers and grabbed her wrist. He pulled the hand off her face. A deep bleeding bruise was blooming on her right cheekbone. She blinked under his stare, then her eyes fell down at his naked body, and she hastily closed her eyes.

"You are hurt!" His voice gruff, he rushed to the table by the wall. He dipped a cloth in a basin of ice cold water, and squeezing some of it out he prepared a cold compress. He turned to her again and saw her staring at him with her slanted eyes wide open and twice the usual size. He had no time to deal with her sudden ogling. He stepped closer and firmly pressed the cloth to her face. She hissed and tried to move away. He pressed on her shoulder, making her sit on the settee.

He touched the cheekbone several times and then went back and washed the blood out in the sink again. He thought that his hands were almost shaking, he did not anticipate the cold, petrifying fear that clenched at his heart when seeing her hurt. He came back to her, noticing she was obviously trying to look anywhere but at him. "How much does it hurt, honourable healer?"

"Just slightly," she wrinkled her delicate nose, and he shook his head.

"What in the Durin's name were you doing sneaking into my bedroom?" He looked into her eyes, still holding the cloth to her face, and she blushed and looked sideways.

"I came to talk." He gave her a look over. The nightdress was thin, but demure, covering her head to toe, only tips of her adorable fingers and toes sticking out from under it.

"In this hour?" She was pointedly looking at the ceiling. "Just one more time..." He washed the cloth again and scooting in front of her he pressed the cloth again. "I could have killed you!" Remorse and sudden fear made him sound angry. Somehow the thought of her fragile slender body in pain made him livid.

"Do you always attack first and ask questions later when staying in a friendly house?" He studied the bruise. It was not deep, but she had tender skin. The purple was spreading on her cheekbone.

"I was sleeping..." He sounded grouchy. She gently touched his fingers with the tips of hers.

"I apologise for the intrusion."

"Do not be preposterous. You are not the one who should apologise," he grumbled and got up. His torso in front of her eyes, she inhaled sharply and looked up hastily.

"Would you mind putting something on, my lord?" She asked in a small voice, and he finally smiled. Letting her switch her hand with his and hold the compress, he walked into the other room and found his breeches he had thrown on the floor last night. He bent down and reached for his shirt, but then a mischievous thought flashed through his mind, and he returned to the room leaving other clothing behind.

She lifted her eyes and immediately shifted them on the bed from his naked chest. The new object did not bring her comfort either, and blushing furiously she looked at him again. She was blinking frantically, and altogether he found her endlessly endearing. If he had ever before doubted her virtue, any of those doubts were disappearing quickly. She was obviously unaccustomed to seeing a naked man. At least when not on a surgery table.

"How is your cheek, my lady?" She took the cloth off her face and peeked at it.

"The bleeding has almost stopped," she sighed and shifted on the settee.

"That will teach you to never again enter a man's rooms in the middle of the night," strange giddiness came over him, somehow the thought entertaining him.

"I do not enter men's rooms in the middle of the night!" The indignation in her tone reminded him of their first meeting, and he smiled wider. "You are the only man whose room it ever came to my mind to attend!" She threw the cloth across the room, and it plopped in the basin with astonishing precision. He looked at it in astoundment. She followed his look. "I am rather proficient in throwing knives." He chuckled. She was full of pleasant surprises.

"And what brought you in mine again?" He stood in front of her, and she once again tried to keep her eyes above his neck. She failed.

"I have to confess, my lord, I suddenly felt rather staggered..." Her voice was quiet but firm. "Do not misunderstand me, I am not doubting any of my decisions. But your appearance, the trip, Erebor, the Elves, King Elrond..." She exhaled sharply, and he sat near her on the settee. He was not the most sensitive of men, but even he could understand how such events could be overwhelming. He picked up her hand and stroked her knuckles with his thumb. She took a deep breath in and then looked at him sideways. "As it will always be from now on, you are the closest person to me these days, my lord. I have no one else to go to in my vexation."

"And what vexes you, my lady?" He honestly tried to understand, but he grudgingly thought that he was the last person to come for advice in the matters of feelings.

"I am lonely," her voice was solemn, but though she lowered her face, he thought he caught a strange expression on her face. He was gaping at her like a dimwit. "I left my life behind me, my friends, my practice..."

"You will have new ones in Erebor, and plenty of responsibilities to attend to..." His tone was rather uncertain. Was he providing comfort or aggravating her state? He also felt rather cold. In his attempt to flaunt his physique in front of her he now was feeling rather exposed to the drafts.

"Yes, I am aware of my future obligations, my lord. But I have agreed to go with you for a quite different reason." He screw his eyes sideways and wistfully thought of the comfortable warm covers on his bed. His back was tired from riding the pony all day, and the blankets were so warm and inviting… He willed himself to concentrate on his future wife. He might have been wrong but from the start he assumed she was a sensible woman. Surely, she had come for a reason, and he was to assist her any way possible.

"Indeed, my lady. You have agreed to be my wife, and only secondarily the Queen. It is indeed a rather lonely position, but I will be there to share your obligations." He felt momentarily proud. That surely would console her!

"And the joys too, you will be there to share my joys as well, will you not, my lord?" He froze from her suddenly lower voice and looked at her in disbelief. A narrow hand lay on his thigh, and the strong fingers stroked his muscles. She was still looking down, but he clearly saw a corner of her lips curl up.

Perhaps for the first time in his life, Thorin doubted his mind. Was he hearing right? More precisely, was he interpreting right? And then she looked at him from the corner of her eye, and the thick black lashes fluttered. And then she turned to him, her eyes burning, and her palm slid up on his thigh.

"I am feeling very, very lonely, my King. And cold, the rooms are rather chilly, do you not find?" In those few short moons he had known her seven years ago he did not have a chance to hear her seductive tone, and he suddenly felt grateful that he had not. He would have taken her right there, right then, in some perhaps public place, unconcerned with any decorum and very much possible even her desires. In the dim cold room in Rivendell his blood boiled, and he suddenly felt hot. She was smiling into his eyes, and he gulped. He knew her affectionate, he was not ready for the passionate lustful woman that made his member swell and his body buzz with one simple look and one seemingly innocent observation. He had two options, and looking into her warm eyes, her strong fingers stroking his thigh, higher and higher, he realized that sending her back to her room was certainly not the one he was going to choose.

He lunged ahead, pressing his mouth to hers, and he felt her moving into him just as fast. His hand cupped the back of her head, her hands were already exploring his nape and ears, he bit her bottom lip greedily, she moaned and moved onto his lap. And then her hands slid on his chest, and she moaned even more loudly. His greedy mouth jumped on the frantically beating pulse on her neck, and she dropped her head back. Her nails scraped his shoulders, and he heard her mumbling, "Maiar, so good..."

For some inconceivable reason that sobered him up. He gently pushed her off his lap, though he was not able to recollect how and when she ended up on it, and placed his palms on her shoulders. "Wren, we have to halt..." She blinked and stared at his chest. Her look could only be described as hungry.

"We should halt..." She mechanically repeated his words and then looked in his eyes, "Why should we?" He was ready to yell at her. Surely, she should understand. But on the other hand, looking at her swollen lips and lustful eyes he could hardly remember all the reasons he had to impose the postponement. And he already was stupid enough to graze his hands over her breasts and now the memories seemed to be burning his palms.

"We are not wed. I am not lying with you until you are my wife. For once I am to do it right. Not like before..." Should he have bitten his tongue? Perhaps. He looked at her cautiously. She seemed less dazed, curious now, but not judgemental.

"And what was it like before, my lord?"

Thorin sighed, he hoped he would not have to explain Dwarven sexuality to his future wife. "I have known many women and men, Dwarves experience sexual awakening early… I do prefer women though..." He felt he was saying all the wrong things. He clenched his jaw and tried to focus, "I have never loved another. It was… different…"

"Perhaps you should have omitted the first part, my lord," the healer's eyes were laughing.

"I wish you to know me fully, my heart." She seemed to be taking it better than he expected. He exhaled.

"To be honest, I am not surprised." Her tone was suspiciously impish. "You have showed your experience seven years ago, my lord, when you, and I only repeat your words, wanted to have me on a kitchen table to expel your mad craving for my body." The memories made him uncomfortable. He indeed came to the kitchen that night with a determined intention of lying with her to rid himself of his strange infatuation. Last thing he expected was the overwhelming feeling of longing and affection he felt when her body was in his arms for the first time. The healer seemingly took pity of him, and stroking his face she continued in a soothing tone, "I am aware of the Dwarven ways, my lord, I am a healer and a midwife after all. I accept you fully."

She leant in and pressed her lips to his in a decisive kiss. Few very pleasurable minutes later Thorin felt control slipping again. He felt almost angry. She had too much power over him.

"I wish to make you mine, body and soul, but only on our wedding night." He sounded very peevish, he spoke too loudly, trying to overpower the roaring of lust in his head.

She gave him a serious look and sighed. "As you wish, my lord." Her palms were still pressed to his chest. "But perhaps we could still continue a bit..." He guffawed. She sounded like a youngling trying to sneakily lure another one into bed. He had done it himself, he was young once, and she was hardly subtle. He looked at the freckled upturned nose and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Are you trying to seduce me, my lady?" Her lips twitched, and she rubbed the tip of her nose to his.

"Perhaps, just a bit." They laughed together, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I do indeed feel very lonely, they placed me in an enormous room, it is bigger than the whole infirmary I served in. And the bed is certainly made for five people. I thought I would need a map to find my way out in the morning. I got lost climbing out of it. Twice."

"And yet you have found your way here quite efficiently, my lady," utterly surprised he realized he was flirting. That might have been the first time in his life. He quite liked it.

"I was driven," she murmured and suddenly pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Though her skin felt cool to him, her greedy little mouth was scorching. He once again considered sending her back to her room. Self-restraint had never been his forte.

He cupped her face and looked into her wide trustful eyes. She looked at him with artless glee in her eyes, and he caught her mouth. Surely he would be able to stop before it was too late.

He was not. Only when he realized he was bunching up her nightgown around her hips he tore his mouth from hers and exhaled sharply. She immediately used this opportunity to press her greedy lips to his neck. He had no willpower to stop her, and she whined from pleasure. He realized she was pushing him down on the settee, and he shook his head trying to clear his mind. He needed to make decision, because it was quite obvious that if he allowed her to guide what was transpiring on the settee, in a few minutes he would find himself spread under her probably naked body, she did attempt to pull on the lacing of her dress couple times. Once she straddled him, there would be no return. He would be ravished shamelessly.

"We should move to the bed, my heart," he mumbled, the affectionate moniker had appeared some time ago, and he thought it fitting. He did feel as if she was now his pulse. In his head he would also address her in Khuzdul, but whether he was ready to pronounce all those words of his native tongue, he was not sure yet. She nodded and readily jumped on her feet.

He strode to the bed, pulling her by the hand, and finally slid under the blankets as he had dreamed for a while. But the reality was much better than his fantasies. The addition of a small strong body pressed into him definitely improved the experience. She immediately wrapped around him, and he thought he needed to be more cunning if he wanted this night to end the way he planned. He pressed her into the sheets and slid down her body. He picked up the hem of her nightdress, and she readily lifted her hips, helping him to take it off.

There was a definite flaw in his plan. Whatever he had been intending to do to avoid the temptation of bedding her was hardly on his mind once he felt the bare skin of her shapely legs and thighs under his palms. Once his hands slid over her waist and ribs, she moaned loudly and arched her back. He was going to convince her to only achieve her release and go to sleep. That was a good plan. Or was it? He only planned to tire her out and repose. Or did he?

And in what moment had he forgotten that once she was bare in front of him all his thoughts would jumble? He growled and caught her nipple with his lips. She softly cried out, her body jolted, and her hands flew into his hair. "Thorin..." Never in his life had he heard anything more beautiful than his own name falling from her lips in a low sensual moan. "My King..." He switched to another breast, caressing and drinking the smell and the taste of her slender body. One of his palms slid under her shoulder blades, another under her buttocks, lifting her body to his lips, like a bowl of the sweetest of drinks, and his mouth and tongue travelled over her stomach and to her sex. She squealed and suddenly thrashed in his hands. In his completely drunk state he realized she was not accustomed to such open attentions. On the other hand, she was pressing his head down into her body. That was rather hard to misinterpret.

He needed to slow down. Another minute of complete control over her body, with her so openly submitting to him, and he would not stop. He peppered kisses over her clavicles and her shoulders, cooling down, industriously recollecting his genealogy back to Dain I in his head, and she caught up on his mood. Her eyes opened, and she smiled to him.

She cleared her throat. "Perhaps, I could have some of the same pleasure, my lord..." She sounded shy, and he lifted a brow. She giggled.

"Which is?.."

"Exploration." And she rolled him over, her legs surprisingly strong, and here she was, straddling him, and he choked on his laughter. It felt like being under an unblinking stare of a bird of prey. His mind shouted of danger, and he full heartedly agreed. She was dangerous. The small, suddenly hot palms ran through the chest hair, and she purred. It was indeed a soft purring sound, and he stared at her in amazement. He was a very lucky Dwarf, who unfortunately realized very late that the treasure of a wife he had chosen for himself should be restrained if he wanted to save some of the pleasure until their wedding night.

She lowered her mouth on the muscles on his chest and after a few kisses she licked slowly and sensually. Shiver ran through his body. Her hands slid lower, on his ribs, and he jerked. She chuckled, and her hips slid lower, and suddenly he found her center pressed to his bulging erection through the thin material of his breeches. Something had to be done, and quickly.

He rolled her over and firmly kissed her. He splayed his hand on her stomach, enjoying the smooth skin under his pulps, and then decisively pushed his palm down. The tip of his middle finger brushed her clit, and suddenly she cried out and arched on the sheets. That was undoubtedly the most quickly achieved climax he had ever given a woman. She pressed her hands to her face, and he heard strange strangled noises. Was she crying?

"My heart?" She lowered her hands, and he saw that she was laughing. He looked at her in confusion.

"That was the most pathetic attempt in seduction one has ever seen," her shoulders were shaking, and he hesitatingly smiled as well. She laughed louder, "I came to lure you into my net of charms, and I climaxed when you literality put a finger on me." She covered her face again, and he heard her snort. Suddenly he felt very relaxed and content. Somehow it was so easy and fun with her. He kissed her shoulder and leaned to her ear.

"Care to find out if I can do better the second time, my heart?"

"I would say the first time you also did very well, my..." She gasped and choked on her words, when he dipped his middle finger in her wet folds. A low throaty moan fell off her lips, and he pressed an open mouth to her throat. She was so responsive, attuned to him, wet and ready right away, his head was spinning from desire and love. He loved her, to his surprise it was a very simple and easy thought.

He moved his finger in and out of her, listening attentively to her body's reactions, rubbing her inner walls, for once only concerned with the other's pleasure. She climaxed again, her rapture quick and unrestrained, soft moans so endearing that he murmured words of love into her ear in Khuzdul. Common speech would feel too mundane, somehow the ancient language of his ancestors felt more genuine.

She curled into him and pressed her forehead to his shoulder. "I have a confession to make, my lord..." He lay with his eyes closed, surprisingly sated and relaxed despite an almost painful erection of a few minutes ago. He hummed nonchalantly. "I speak Khuzdul..."

His eyes flew open, and he peered down at her. Only her eyes and the tip of her nose sticking from under the blanket, she gave him a playful impish look.

"It is a secret language of Dwarves, my lady. Where would you have learnt it?" Sudden illogical jealousy made him clench his fists. Had she spend some time with other Dwarves? What had transpired between them? A suddenly clear thought that he would kill anybody who would have any claim on her came to his mind. The rage and possessiveness he felt were cold and calculative. He would use his sword but if possible he would crush some bones with his bare hands.

She yawned and nuzzled him. "I found a book in a pawn shop. I spent three years looking, had to travel to Dale for it, but I did." She sounded very proud of herself, and he suddenly returned to his senses. What was that mad fit?! Never in his life had he felt so towards a lover. His independence and the respect for freedom of others had always been crucial for him. Just a moment ago he was ready to kill a person who would somehow steal her attention from him. He looked at the red haired healer with suspicion. He felt so many emotions and with such intensity when near her that he could almost believe that some magic was involved. She yawned again and chuckled. "If your goal was to tire me to hinder my attempts to steal your virtue, my lord, you have been very successful."

He kissed the top of her head. "You should get some sleep, my lady. We have many days of riding a pony ahead of us." Her eyes already closing, she wrinkled her nose.

"My backside is in mourning, my lord..." He chuckled. There was nothing sad about her backside. He felt his member jerk from the memory of her round firm buttocks in his hands while his lips were caressing her stomach. He willed the treacherous organ to calm down. She was all his now, she would be in her body soon as well. He would do it right, and then he would have his whole life to enjoy her. Again and again, perhaps until she would ask for some sleep. She would have to bear with him especially at the beginning. He had imaginative plans for her. Every night and perhaps couple times during the day. His mind full of visions how to ravish her on the table in the dining hall of Erebor, he was shaken out of his daydreaming by her slurred mumbling.

"Can I stay here?.. It is so warm… You are warm..." He chuckled and pressed his lips to her temple.

"Sleep, kurdu," he slipped into Khuzdul and smiled. She spoke his language.

"Men lananubukhs menu, melekhuh," she mumbled obviously in her sleep, and he stared at her in complete shock. Her Khuzdul was impeccable, consonants deep and throaty. His heart clenched. She loved him. On her lips the coarse fierce language of his people sounded so pure and innocent. He moved a curl off her face and pondered the woman sleeping in his bed. His wife, his heart, his gem, his Wren… Strong, passionate, tender, loving… He intertwined his fingers with hers, and she sighed in her sleep. He quickly kissed her lips and closed his eyes. He did well, he did not waste his chance this time. He was taking her home, and she was everything he had ever hoped for. Erebor had a Queen, and he had a wife. And then, just before his sleep took him, he chuckled. Little temptress… That would surely be an interesting marriage.


	9. Chapter 9

_Written by __kkolmakov_

_22 days ago..._

"Wren, my dearest, I feel wonderful!" Thea sauntered into the common room of the inn she lived in along with Wren and her friends among the winegirls of Bree. She had just spent a glorious pair of hours in a room of a merchant passing the city, and her mood was soaring.

"Thea, I have news..." Wren was sitting on a bench, her hands clenched on her lap. Thea walked by and poured herself some wine. Wren sounded strange, but Thea very much wanted to share her newly acquired knowledge.

"Yes, yes, my darling, but in a moment, first I will share my wisdom with you..."

"Thea, it is indeed important..." Wren interrupted her, and Thea looked at her. Wren was surprisingly still clad in her healer's robe. Thea vaguely remembered it was a morning shift for Wren, she should have been back from the infirmary for hours.

"But, Wren, I learnt this new trick..."

"Thea! I am leaving Bree!" Thea froze, her arms mid air, her right hand in an obvious imitation of holding a certain part of male anatomy. She gave her friend an attentive look and noticed feverish flushed cheeks, widened eyes, hands worrying the belt of the robe.

"What?"

"I am leaving Bree. Tomorrow morning." There was something almost mad splashing in Wren's eyes, and Thea sat down near her. Wren was the most sober, the most practical person Thea had ever met, at the moment she was strung like a bow, her bottom lip red, almost bleeding, probably from Wren's customary habit of worrying it with her teeth.

"Your tone tells me it is not a fun trip to Hobbiton..." Wren shook her head.

"I am leaving for Erebor, Thea."

"Why, in the name of Maiar, to Erebor?" Thea looked at Wren in astonishment. She herself had little interest in war, but some vague rumours had reached her of course. The Lonely Mountain, somewhere up North, a Dwarven Kingdom. Something about a dragon and a big battle. Wine merchants had started returning from those lands recently, telling of the five armies that had clashed in one valley, but of course that mattered little compared to the possibility of the new trade routes, new treaties between the Elves of Mirkwood, the Dwarves, and there seemed to be a large ruined town of Men there too.

Wren dropped her eyes on her never stopping fingers, the belt wrapped around her little digit, almost blue from the cut down blood circulation. "It happened seven years ago. I met a Dwarf, and..."

"And?.." Thea felt the world was crumbling around her, she almost wanted to check Wren's forehead for fever. Wren did not meet men, Wren did not see men. Thea had known Wren for almost six years, not once Wren showed any interest. She also never judged Thea for hers. And then again… a Dwarf? Thea slightly wrinkled her nose in apprehension. The Stunted Ones were perhaps the only kind of men Thea found unappealing. They were seen in Bree a lot, and she had encountered plenty in the travels with the merchants, but dealings with them were tricky, and felt somewhat… dirty, their ways too different, their greed insatiable. Many condoned their libidinousness, that Thea minded little, but never wanted to experience first hand. And to think of it… Wren, the pristine, neat, cold and sarcastic Wren, and one of the Mountain Dwellers...

"And he came back for me." Wren suddenly swayed, and Thea grabbed her shoulder. "Maiar, he came back for me... I have been sitting here for five hours… After seven years, and he said he wanted to make me his Queen, and he is so..." Wren's voice was rising higher and reached an unprecedented level of shriekiness, "Large..." She choked, bent ahead and hid her face into the knees. She was now breathing heavily into the skirt of her healer's robe. One word particularly stood out for Thea.

"Queen, Wren?"

"His name is Thorin Oakenshield... The King Under the Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror… He came into my infirmary today and said he wanted to marry me... He has not seen me for seven years... He is mad, is he not? There is some sort of delirium... Certainly fever of sorts… And I am surely ailing too, my skin is burning, and there is some sort of ringing in my ears. I wonder if that is how fainting feels, I have never had it... He kissed me, I kissed him, and touched him in the closet... He was real… There was fur on the collar"

Thea knew hysterics when she saw them. A slap was decisive and loud, and Wren gasped and gulped air, sanity returning into her eyes. She blinked, and then Wren of Enedwaith was back.

"May I have a glass of water, please?" Her voice was her usual calm and soft lilt, and Thea rushed to the table and hurriedly brought a goblet to her friend. Wren drank in small sips, and Thea started rubbing her back soothingly. Wren was breathing more evenly now, and then looked at Thea with pained eyes. "I have been sitting here for five hours, I have worked my shift, as if nothing happened, and then I came back here, I sat down… And then it just kept on swirling in my head..." She suddenly grabbed Thea's shoulders, her strong little fingers digging into Thea's skin painfully, and the latter winced. "I have not even started packing. I am to come to the Prancing Pony first thing in the morning, and I need to start packing. Thea, will you please help me?"

One thing was to be said about Wren. She was loyal like a dog, one of those friends one would want to have if one happened to get in trouble or lead a slightly despicable life, she would be fighting for her friends till the last spoonful of blood in her tiny body, and interestingly enough there was plenty of fight in the ickle redhead. Thea could remember an instance when Wren smashed a chair at the back of the head of an overly zealous Northman who decided that Thea was to join him in his room despite her obvious reluctance. At the same time Wren never expected anything in return. She took people the way they were, and Thea decisively got up.

"Lead the way, my darling."

**XXX**

They entered Wren's room, and the redhead froze at the door. She was once again taking sharp breaths in. "Give me a moment, Thea." She pressed a hand to her chest. "I was leaving this morning and was planning to go to the market in the evening. I am out of candles. And I will never come back to this room again. I need a moment."

These words suddenly made Thea realise what was happening. She rushed to her friend and pulled Wren to herself. She wanted to ask whether Wren was certain, and whether she had thought it through, and Thea had myriads of questions, but Wren softly untangled herself from her arms and walked to her bed. She bent down and pulled a big trunk from underneath it. Thea had never seen it before.

Wren knelt in front of it, Thea was staring at the vulnerable back of her neck, skin pale, small orange curls, so defenseless and almost child-like, and Wren spoke evenly, "I love him, Thea, I always have. I have loved him for seven years. I would have gone with him anywhere, as his servant or his mistress… I would have given him anything he wanted… He asked me to marry him, and he is making me his Queen. I will worry about it later, how I will live there… And the Khazad..." The raspy, throaty word sounded staggering on Wren's lips, and Thea froze, clenching her fists, "Right now I will be happy that he..." Wren's voice broke but she took deep breath in and turned to Thea. Wren's eyes were dry, burning with determination and the firmness that had always been hiding under her demure delicate manners. "I will be happy that he loves me."

Thea knelt near her friend, and unlike Wren she let tears spill and sobs escape her throat. Wren rubbed her small dry palm up and down Thea's upper arm, as if Thea was the one needing comforting here, and then with a decisive jerk Wren opened the trunk.

It was full of the most exquisite clothing Thea had ever seen in her life. And Thea knew her fabrics. She wore the most expensive dresses out of all wine girls in Bree, she paraded her shawls, she changed shoes unnecessarily often, her undergarments were of the most indecent and most luscious kind, and yet she had never in her life seen anything even closely compared to the neat piles her ever so dull friend had been keeping in a trunk under her bed.

"Wren..."

"I have been buying these clothes for seven years, I have been putting them here, I never wore a single one of them..." Wren's voice was strangely even, and Thea shortly wondered if another hysterical fit was coming. "I never thought I would need them..."

"Wren, they are all… white..." Thea just could not wrap her mind around the content of the trunk. Wren had three dresses, Thea was as sure as eggs is eggs, one dark blue, one grey, and she wore her healer's robe, her hair was braided around her head and she had three pairs of shoes for the whole year. There was an old cloak, and when they tended to their laundry together Thea would have a good laugh at Wren's expense, over her modest knee long bloomers and chemises, with no lace or embroidery, pristine and boring.

Thea picked up a item from the very top, and her eyes widened. In front of her nose, dangling on her index fingers she saw the most obscene chemise she had ever seen in her life. The cut was low, decorated with the most exquisite Gondor lace, a string of river pearls was to hold it around a neck, clasped at the nape, and the string went down, along a naked back, and Thea felt blush spill on her cheeks. The pearls were a leash and an invitation, and she whipped her head and stared at Wren.

"It is made by that seamstress you suggested to me. It cost three month wages of mine," Wren suddenly chuckled, "I miscalculated then and had to live on bread and water for a month." Thea felt her jaw slack.

"Was that… Is that for your Dwarf?"

"Do you think me mad?" Wren suddenly asked, and then she brushed her hand to the fabric of a night robe, of rich velvet, also white, just like all of the attires, "I have been buying clothes for a man who was never to come. There are shoes there too… I never thought I would deserve putting any of it on..."

Thea threw the chemise in and once again pulled her friend into a tight embrace. She cared little whether Wren needed it at the moment, her own heart was clenching in acute pain and sympathy.

"Wren, you cow! Of course you deserve it, every one of these… Maiar help me, these gems," she held her friend on straight arms on her shoulders now and gave her a glare.

"I mean, they are white… Where would I have worn white to? And I do love the colour..." Wren smiled shakily. "Do you want to see the dresses?"

Thea suddenly imagined what it would have felt like to buy dresses for a man who was never to see them. Thea could not understand loving a man thusly, but she loved Wren. Thea shook her chestnut curls, wiped off her tears and was ready to be the friend Wren deserved.

"Maiar, Wren, of course!" Thea shook off her mawkishness and started seeing the bright side of what was transpiring. Clothes!

Wren's eyes were shiny, they were pulling an item after an item, Thea would gasp and admire, Wren would blush, some of the undergarments would make her hide behind them, and Thea would laugh. She pushed her own resentment for the Dwarves at the back of her mind and just remembered that Wren was finally to have a lover who would appreciate her. Sensible and cautious in everyday life, Wren was seemingly cold and dispassionate but there was one thing that made Thea think there was fire hidden in her little friend. Wren danced. Wren loved nothing as much as she loved to dance, and there, with fiddles and harps playing away, she would suddenly lose her usual decorous composure, her eyes would burn and her slender body would suddenly move sensually and swiftly, small feet would move and leap, and she was no little bird anymore, she was flame and life, and perhaps the Dwarf did not stand a chance.

After a while Wren brought some food from downstairs, it was past midnight but they decided they could indulge themselves, they ate and laughed, Wren was telling the stories of the face seamstresses and cobblers would make when she would show up with another roll of white silk, or another idea for a shoe. Thea was listening, enjoying the happy smile on her friend's face, shaking her head in disbelief, another little shoe in her hand, with an intricate clasp on top, and long silk ribbons to wrap around Wren's tiny ankles.

And then Thea rushed to her room and brought a pile of her own clothes. Little would fit Wren, she was ickle, while Thea had an opulent bosom and curvaceous hips, but still Thea felt sudden urge to gift her friend with something, something the little redhead would take with her into that strange new life of hers, and Wren hugged her, mumbling words of gratitude, and without a single objection she got up and started trying on the attires Thea brought for her. Little fit, and they laughed wholeheartedly at the sleeves too long and hems dragging on the floor, and yet Wren twirled in front of Thea, as if wearing the most ostentatious of attires, and finally two white chemises travelled from the pile on Wren's bed into her trunk.

"Try the robe, Wren, it is new, I just bought it," Thea pushed it into her friends hands, "I know it is not white but perhaps you need at least one colourful thing." The robe was of soft velvet, dark green, and Wren gracefully slipped in it, only bloomers and undertunic on her, and she deftly tied the belt with tassels. The robe was too big, and it opened on her chest. If she were bare, the sides of her small breasts would be visible. Thea was going to lament it, when suddenly Wren looked herself over in the mirror, and a small smile played on her lips. Thea froze with a slice of apple to her lips. She had never seen such expression on the redhead's face, and if asked before would never think that such salacious, hungry fire could burn in Wren's slanted eyes.

"Thank you, Thea, I will cherish your gift."

"Tell me of him, Wren." Thea blurted out, suddenly feeling distressed, throwing the fruit aside.

"Thea..."

"I worry, Wren! A man from seven years ago, a Dwarf for that matter, and they are not..." Thea stumbled over her words and met Wren's eyes. She expected anger and defensiveness, but Wren gave her a soft understanding smile.

"They are not to be trusted, is that what you thought, Thea?" Wren sat on the bed near her friend and folded her hands on her knees. She paused, gathering her thoughts or perhaps lost in some memories, and then she sighed, softly and contently. "He left me seven years ago because he could not have me as his wife. He was a King and a Dwarf, and… he loved me. From that night. I think I have always known it, but it was so painful to think of it..."

"You never told me," Thea sounded almost offended, but Wren moved closer and placed her head on Thea's shoulder. Her hair was soft and tickled Thea's nose, it smelled of Wren's customary lilacs oil, and Thea picked up her small hand.

"It would have made him real. If I never spoke of him, he was just a dream. One night of madness, and a dream never to come true. Just a trunk full of things I could never have."

As much as Thea's heart ached for the pain her friend had had to endure in those seven years, Thea could not let one question go unanswered.

"So there was one night, Wren..." Curiosity slipped into her voice against her will, and Wren chuckled on her shoulder.

"Oh Thea, please, never change..." Her voice was teasing. "Nothing happened. We kissed. And then he said he would never love another and left."

"You two are demented," Thea shook her head in disbelief.

"I know," Wren suddenly giggled, "You should have seen the faces of his companions. He came with some sort of an advisor and with his nephew, and then he started proposing to me in the middle of the infirmary. And that baker I was telling you about last week, remember? The one who got attacked by a goat, the baker was staring at us, and then he dragged me into a closet."

"The baker?!" Thea moved away from her friend and stared at her.

"Thorin!" Wren suddenly froze, and then repeated as if tasting the name on her lips, "Thorin..." And that was when Thea made a glorious discovery.

"You are besotted with him!" Wren suddenly smiled widely, her wide bright mouth stretched from ear to ear, her eyes uncharacteristically dreamy, and Thea clasped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, Thea, I know you are not particularly fond of Dwarves, but..." Wren suddenly moved closer and looked into Thea's eyes ardently, "You are my best friend, and I am begging you to believe me, he… he is the best man there existed. He is noble, loyal, passionate, brave… He is loved as a King, I had spoken with Dwarves if I ever had gotten a chance, some were willing to discuss him… And Thea… He is so beautiful! I forgot how he was, and he stood there, covered in the road dust, and thinned… He looked thinned, it is probably from the battle wounds, but Thea..." Wren bit into her bottom lip, red spots blooming on her cheekbones, and she made an energetic gesture with her hands. "He is… majestic, Thea." Wren let out a shuddering sigh out, and Thea was staring at her in shock. Besides the absurdity of an idea of a Dwarf being attractive, Thea had never thought she would see the enamoured dazed expression on her friend's shrewd face. Wren seemed almost giddy, and then she jumped off the bed, rushed to her desk and pulled out a parchment. Wren drew, Thea knew of it, but arts and crafts interested Thea little. The portrait she was currently having shoved under her nose was worth her attention though.

"Wren, I do not dispute your craft, but surely that is an exaggeration..." Thea gave the man depicted a dubious look. A straight prominent nose, piercing eyes under thick brows, long wavy hair, stubborn expression, he was gorgeous!

Wren suddenly started laughing and fell back on her bed, pressing her hands to her chest, "Oh Thea, and I will tell you I hardly paid him justice in this sketch. I drew from memory, and then he came into the infirmary, and I thought I would faint… He is so..." Slender arms flew in the air, and she vaguely gestured something wide and impressive in the air. Thea was trying to agree her previous prejudices with the face on the picture.

"Alright, Wren, and what happened in the closet?" Wren covered her face with hands and snorted into them.

"I jumped at him." Her voice was muffled, and Thea wondered if she misheard.

"What?"

"I jumped at him and just… I could not get enough, he is a glorious kisser. And he is scorching, Thea, their flesh is harder and hotter than of men." Disgust and heady arousal were fighting in Thea's mind, and for the first time in her life she decided to aim for a safer subject of a conversation.

"Alright, Wren what else is there to pack?"

Wren kept silent for a bit, her mind still probably on the events of the day, and then she sat up and her face was once again sober and calm. They discussed the trunk, almost nothing of Wren's current belongings was to go with her, they spend another hour deciding what Thea was to do with them, some were to be given out to friends, some to be taken to the infirmary, to offer to the needing. Wren pulled out a coin pouch, they started counting, some of the silver was to be paid for her room, but most of her expenses were taken care of, she was endlessly shrewd in her expenses.

After everything was seemingly taken care of, they returned on the bed and started once again rummaging through Wren's hidden treasures. Thea was holding a small velvet doublet in her hands, white fur collar and buttons made of mother-of-pearls, flirty and perfectly fitted for Wren's small frame, when she realised her friend was asleep. She was curled in a tiny ball among her odd white attires, small hands clenched in childish fists, and Thea suddenly had to bite into her hand to suppress a sob. She was losing her friend, and her heart was broken. No one would listen to her the way Wren would, without a judgment or a censure, no one was to spend a night dancing and laughing freely with her, and no one would ever make Thea feel as worthy as Wren could.

Thea got up and quickly folded the rest of the clothes in the trunk. She pulled the blanket over the sleeping redhead, put out the candle and left the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: My darlings, I know I have been absent for the last few days. But I WENT ON A ADVENTURE! *Bilbo voice* I took a 600 km (one way) all-night bus trip and met up with my dearest RagdollPrincess to watch _The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies._ My verdict: one word. Disappointing. But that's not the point. The point I'm back and all my stories will be updated in the nearest few days: "convince me the winter is over" of course, I know it's your favourite, my duckies ;) Thorin in Hogwarts will have to address the question of Wren's virginity asap :P and just like I promised...**

**I'm posting the Christmas three-piece morsel. It's sweet, it's silly, and has all the essential elements of this pairing :) Don't forget to floss and brush your teeth, because the sweetness overload in it will give you cavities like no other :P**

_Written by __kkolmakov_

Despite being in the cursed Elven palace Thorin Oakenshield woke up in the best of moods. It potentially had something to do with falling asleep holding the small healer in his arms. He opened his eyes and stared at an empty pillow. Did she leave? He rose on his elbows and saw her. She was standing by his basin and was studying her face in a mirror on the wall. She put on her nightdress, but the window behind her illuminated her, and he could clearly see the outline of her slender body through the gauzy fabric.

"Morning, my lady." She turned to him, and a wide smile spread on her face. He on the other hand felt his face drop. Her right cheekbone was bright purple, slightly swollen, the bruise from last night angry red. He felt as if acid spilled on his insides. He had hurt her.

She quickly approached the bed and climbed on the blanket. She sat on her knees, the habit he remembered from seven years ago, and tilted her head. She was still smiling, her eyes attentively surveying his face.

"Morning, my lord." He could not stop looking at her cheekbone, when her warm little hand cupped his face. She made him meet her eyes and brushed her thumb over his lips. "It was not your fault." It was not, but he felt awful. The unusual for him flurry of emotions flooded him, making him uncomfortable from the intensity of guilt, protectiveness, tenderness and anger. She slid closer and pressed her lips to his. He gently cupped the back of her head, momentarily surprised by her directness, and then she stretched on him, and he stopped thinking. He rolled her underneath him, his hands wandered, and she wrapped a leg around his calves.

At some point he lifted his face to look at her, and she smiled blissfully into his eyes. "I am sorry for the bruise," his own voice sounded strange to his ear, and she pushed her fingers into his mane.

"I do not blame you," she rose slightly and pressed her lips to his cheek, "But imagine what the Elves will think!.." She sniggered, and he looked at her in confusion. "They will say that Dwarves habitually beat their wives into obedience." He froze and stared at her. The curved up corners of her lips were twitching in a suppressed smile, and he shook his head. What was he to do with her?

"Dwarves never raise their hand on a female of any race, my lady."

"I know that. I know all about Dwarven traditions and customs," she smiled again and scraped the back of his head. The gesture was alike the one a person would bestow a cat with, but felt surprisingly good. "I had seven years of unquenchable curiosity regarding everything Dwarven."

He chuckled and kissed her again. He remembered not to go too far, but surely there was nothing wrong in getting to know each other a wee bit better. She arched into him and throatily moaned, and he realized he overestimated his reserve. Perhaps, they should go back to talking. He rolled off her, pulling her on top of him, her strange eyes widening. He could not help it. His hand slid on her buttocks, and she gasped. She looked slightly dazed, to his smug pleasure, and then she wiggled on him. That felt equally very good, and very disturbing. Surely, he could reign his arousal that the pressure of her hips on his crotch produced. He was wrong again. But he realized she was not trying to rise some of his parts to life, but finding a more comfortable spot. She did, and sighing contently she propped her chin on her little fists on his chest.

"That is surprisingly easy," her tone was pensive. "I have not shared a bed with a man before. I would expect it to be more... awkward." He hiked his brows in surprise. "Not in terms of placement, I mean, less awkward as in..." Her voice trailed away, furious blush spreading on her cheeks. He kept silent, wanting to see to what verbal trap she would corner herself now. She shifted her eyes and pointedly stared to the side. And just because he found her so delectable, and, honestly speaking, her bashful mumbling so entertaining, he gave her perky little backside a squeeze. Her eyes got twice the size, and he guffawed. She puffed air and pressed her face into his chest. "Are you enjoying embarrassing me?"

"Immensely. So what what was it about sharing a bed with a man?"

"I have never... And we had so little time together. And I feel uncomfortable with men in general." She peeked and hesitantly smiled to him. "I feel very free with you. And you are..." She slightly pushed up on one arm and tentatively stroke his bare chest with another hand, "Pleasant..."

"Pleasant?" He chuckled. "That is something I definitely have not heard before."

She hid her face again and then suddenly rubbed her nose to his hair covered chest. "I have given it a lot of thought through the years."

"What do you mean?"

"Bedding a Dwarf." He choked on his chuckling. "I did not hope you would come. Nothing stopped me from dreaming about it though." Her eyes were mischievous, and he stroked her hair. "I did not expect it to be so… familiar. As if it has been years."

She had an unusual manner of speech. Each word was articulated perfectly, a slight accent that he was not familiar with hardly noticeable, but present, and altogether she sounded like a person for whom Common speech was not the first language. Each of her phrases sounded purposeful , thought through, even when she would stammer and blush.

"Where did you grow up, honourable healer?" She had put her head on her hand splayed on his chest, fingers of the other one drawing mindless patterns on his forearm. He saw one of the tiny feet dangle in the air and felt a prickle of a strange adoration. The sole of her foot was narrow, toes small and pink.

"Enedwaith. I left when I was thirteen. Went traveling and learning medicine."

"Why Bree then?" She pushed her fist under her chin again, so that she could see his face, and shrugged.

"It was as good a place as any. I was not planning to stay there long. When we met, I had served there for two years already, longer than anywhere before. And after... I considered going back to Gondor, but..."

"But..?" He had already learnt her tells, and judging by suddenly fluttering lashes and bright blush on her cheekbones, he breached another embarrassing topic.

"But I did not." He grabbed a handful of her unruly curls at the back of her head and made her look in his eyes.

"Were you waiting for me, honourable healer?" Mahal, he hoped she would say yes. She tried to twist out of his grip, but he held her firmly though gently.

"How would you have found me then, had I left?" She blurted out, and he let her go. She pressed her forehead to him and then suddenly bit into his skin. Hard. He let out a fake yelp, and she gave him an haughty look. "That will teach you not to embarrass me in the future!" He guffawed and pulled her to his lips.

She relaxed into his kiss, and he cupped her face, his thumbs on her delicate jaw, his fingers in her remarkable hair, and he whispered into her widened happy eyes, "I would have found you." They smiled to each other, and after a bit more wiggling, which left him rather bothered, she found another comfortable position.

"You are very pleasant to lie on." Now she was definitely teasing. "Lots of room, warm, Dwarves are so much hotter than men of other races..." It was indeed pleasant, although he would choose a different word. She fit into him, something that had tortured him in his dreams before, the memories of that short chaste embrace of seven years ago and the way her body seemed to conform with his, complement it, all her seemingly angular, small figure finding just the right places to mold into him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she purred.

"So what were you doing all these seven years, while waiting for me, honorable healer?" She made a scornful noise, and he retaliated with another squeeze of her buttock.

"I served. I travelled here and there. I studied and learnt. I went dancing with my friend Thea," she gave him another impish look. "Do you dance, my lord?" He hiked one brow. She giggled. "I think I knew the answer to this question. What else... I learnt Khuzdul and read everything possible about Dwarven culture."

"And nothing else?" She pretended to think really hard about it, and he chuckled.

"No, I do not think so… Is my lord asking about something specific?" She looked at him with pointedly innocent eyes.

"Well, I do not know..." He feigned pensiveness as well. "Marriages, children, illicit affairs..." It was her turn to raise her brow sceptically, and he stroked her back. He did not know himself why he was asking. The past did not matter, and he knew if anything his would be more colourful and harder to ignore, but he needed confirmation. She was still giving him a sardonic look, and he felt like a dimwit and quickly tried to find another topic of conversation. He cleared his throat, when she chuckled and spoke.

"There was no man in my life through these seven years." He unsuccessfully tried to hide the satisfaction. She snorted and continued impishly, "I cannot say there were crowds seeking my attention though. To think of it since I became of age there was maybe a handful of men interested in me at all. Most were intoxicated. Oh wait, there was this one Dwarf seven years ago..." He guffawed and just could not help it anymore. He pushed her into sheets and let himself enjoy her a bit. He kept on holding back, already knowing how easy it was to lose control with her. She did not though, her hands roaming his torso, obviously curious, exploring, and then they slid up and found his ears. She rubbed the helixes, the tips of her fingers brushed on the earcuff, and she smiled.

"You are a very unusual Dwarf, are you not?" She murmured.

"I am a Dwarf like any other, honorable healer." He felt they were talking for the sake of talking, and it felt surprisingly good.

"You are taller than most," her fingers ran along his spine, and his back covered in goosebumps. Her movements were almost chaste, inexperienced, but he felt how eager she was, and it made it really hard not to ravish her right away. "And in some spots narrower," her small palms brushed his hips and then she suddenly wrapped her legs around his waist. "But you obviously fit very well."

"Vixen," he leaned in and caught her earlobe between his teeth. She gasped, and her arms tightened around his neck. "It is so hard to keep myself under control with you." He smiled to her and leaned in to kiss her neck.

And then in the corner of his eye he caught her returned smile waver, and he thought he felt her body go a bit more rigid. He lifted his face and gave her an attentive look. She looked absolutely blissful, but the grain of doubt had already been planted into his mind. He thought back at a few instants ago and tried to understand what spoiled her mood. He knew he would find out eventually. He was a very stubborn Dwarf. She lay under him, her legs around his pelvis, her hands buried in his hair.

And then she suddenly asked, "Can I... Can I touch the braids?" He met her eyes, and she looked shy. Apparently, she knew the significance of hair. He smiled and nodded. She unwrapped one of her slender arms from his neck, and the delicate tiny fingers touched the thick black plaid on the side of his face. Her eyes were warm, the lashes suddenly fluttered, and he saw her eyes grow vulnerable, emotion splashing in them.

"You do not have to ask me, my heart," her eyes widened, and he heard her holding her breath, "You are my wife. You never have to ask." He gently kissed her cheek. "And you are my Queen as well. All I have is yours."

She was still staring at the braids, the fingers of her second hand wrapped around another plaid now, and then she took a deep breath, obviously gathering her thoughts, and decisively met his eyes.

"I apologise for intruding last night. It was unseemly." He stared at her in surprise. What gave her an impression he was not happy to see her? "And I was very direct… I seem to have not yet found my footing in my new position..." He wondered if that was what bothered her, that he would think she was improper, her behaviour too loose for a Queen.

"You aware of the Dwarven ways, my lady. Aren't you?" She blinked, shaking off some sort of pensiveness, and lifted her brows.

"If you mean the Dwarven sexuality, yes, you know I am."

"Nothing you could do would be too lewd or direct, my heart," he kissed her other cheek, "Compared to what Dwarves do habitually." She frowned and gave it a thought.

"I was told I had unhealthy appetites." He choked and gave her an incredulous look. She blushed furiously but apparently was determined to continue. "I know I do not, but I still feel very conscious. And I..." She took a deep breath, and although he had never been the most sensitive of men, Thorin understood she needed to be given a chance to talk. "I know I am unattractive… I still do not know why you… No, that is not what I want to say. I want to say that I am worried." None of her words made sense but he realized she was approaching something important, something that had been bothering her, and he acutely felt the need for her to be open with him.

"What worries you, my heart?" He kept his tone soft, his thumb softly brushing on her healthy cheekbone, his weight still pressing on her.

"That I am undesirable. I know I am being absurd… I am… Am I not?" Her brows were drawn together, and he decided that was enough. Her talking obviously was not working. They needed to try something else. He pressed his lips to hers, she gasped, but he did not allow her a moment to think, he pushed his hand under her head, another one slid under her buttocks, and he deepened the kiss. She moaned, and he opened her mouth with his tongue. His palm slipped higher, and he covered her small breast. She throatily moaned, her whole body answering him, her back arching, her hands immediately grasping his shoulders firmly. He tore his mouth from hers and spoke into her giant feverish eyes.

"I desire you." His voice was raspy, and she started shaking. "And you are the most beautiful woman for me. Everything about you is desirable. I feel like a dimwit. I cannot calmly look at you. Even your feet."

"Feet?" She squeaked and looked at him as if he had just told her he was secretly an Elf.

"Yes, even the feet," he nodded firmly, "They are tiny and pink. I have unhealthy appetites even looking at your feet. With that settled, we are going to have a sincere conversation now, my heart." His tone was assertive, and she blinked. "I think you should openly tell me what bothers you." She chewed on her bottom lip, and his eyes immediately fell on it. She had an unusual mouth, wide, lips bright red, as if painted, the upper lip curved, the bottom one full, and he lifted his hand and gently brushed his thumb on them, releasing the lip she was worrying. "Well, my lady? I am waiting." He could see her considering and weighing, but then she composed herself and spoke.

"My past and only lover was… cruel to me. He was violent sometimes, but it was not the physical violence that was most painful. He convinced me I was unworthy, unattractive, that did not take much effort, to be honest… He would say that I was sick for wanting affection, for thinking I deserved any, for putting myself first sometimes, for…" Her voice wavered, and he saw her bit into her bottom lip again. Her eyes were full of tears but they did not spill. His little Queen had a will of steel.

There were a few moments of silence in the room, and then she cleared her throat and asked, "Are you planning his slow and painful murder in your head, my lord?" He assumed she guessed by the expression on his face. She chuckled joylessly, "He is dead now. He died in a Haradrin attack in Gondor ten years ago. Aldacar… His name was Aldacar. After that I left and went to Bree. Just like thousands of other women in such relationships, I could not leave him… I should have, but I did not. He died and freed me." He did not know what to say. She exhaled sharply, and her face lost the pained expression. "I healed, it took years, but I know now that all he did to me was to keep me under his power, and none of it was true. But I have scars. And I worry sometimes."

"About what?" He needed her to tell him what to do, how to help her.

"You hold back. You kiss me and then move away. I apologise, I am being unreasonable, I should appreciate your reverence towards our marriage, but..."

"I can hardly control myself with you. My heart, look at me," she met his eyes, and he quickly kissed her lips, "If it convinces you I will bed you right now. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than making you mine. Say a word, and I am yours." He was holding her stare, and then suddenly the corners of her lips twitched, her eyes lost the cautious, slightly frightened look in them, and she bit her bottom lip again. But this time it was definitely a very hesitant flirtiness.

"You do possess a lot of self-control, my lord."

"There is hardly any left, my lady," he sounded grouchy, and she tentatively chuckled. "Not after you climaxed twice in my hands last night." With pleasure he noted he managed to induce more blushing on her cheeks. "Wren, you are my One. We are to wed, and I will show you how much I desire you. I want to wait because it is different from anything I have ever had. You are different." His last phrase made her wince, and he realized that sometimes he would say something she had heard from that man. But now he knew better. "You are different because you are better, more precious, more important. Nothing will ever compare to you. Are we in agreement?"

She smiled shakily and nodded. He leaned in and kissed her thoroughly. He let his hands touch every inch of her, showing her how much he enjoyed it, and she was breathing faster and faster, and he decided he was doing it right. She looked sufficiently dazed, and he grasped the hem of her nightdress and pulled it up.

"Are we…?" She stumbled over her question, and he chuckled into her knee that he was currently kissing.

"We are not. But you are," he pushed the dress higher and pressed his lips to her thigh. She made a choked sound and to his shock grabbed his ears. Then she gently pulled him up, making him align his body with hers. He met her remarkable eyes, and they were pleading.

"Can we talk some more, please? I know men are not fond of talking about feelings, but..." He caught her mouth in a kiss, while his hand kept on pulling her dress higher.

"I can do two things at the same time, my heart," she was staring at him round-eyed, and he finally managed to pull the nightgown off her. He pressed his lips to her clavicle, and nuzzled her skin there. "After the wedding I am keeping you in my chambers for a week, no clothes allowed."

"A week?" She asked squeakily, and he smiled into her skin.

"I would take a moon, but we have a city to rule." His lips traveled lower, and he slid his mouth between her breasts. She had amazing skin, smooth and soft, as if glowing, and from his ministrations he saw a gentle pink spread all over her body. He wanted to savour the moment, proceed slowly with her, but she was panting under him and he was quickly heating up. He threw the caution aside and took her nipple in his mouth. She made another choked sound and grabbed handfuls of his hair. She actually pulled rather hard, and he assumed he was too rough. He let go and looked up at her. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly open, and then she gently pushed his head down towards her breasts. He exhaled with relief and returned his attention to her bright taut peaks. Both received equal treatment, and she was making soft mewling sounds. She was apparently very vocal, and he ground his teeth. It was very hard to keep himself from taking her right then, but it was not even about the wedding now. He needed her to trust him.

"Tell me what you want, my heart, tell me what feels good," he whispered into her soft stomach, and she moaned. He saw her hands fisted on the sheets, in a vulnerable childish gesture, and he felt almost painful tenderness towards her.

"I need to see your eyes," her voice was hardly audible, but firm. He moved up her body and met her burning eyes. She cupped his face with one hand, and then pressed her lips to his. "I need to see… I will know…" She murmured between the kisses, but he did not hear her anymore. Hot wave of passion flooded him, and he rolled on his side and pulled her into him. He made her lie on his arm, and then wrapped it around her shoulders, pulled her even closer, and his second hand slid between her legs. She gasped, but she did not move away or tense as he expected. Her bent leg lay on him, she opened up for him, keeping her eyes locked with his. He hoped she saw how much he valued her trusting him, and then his finger slid into her, making her raspily moan and arch. He buried his face into her neck, a frantic pulse beating under his lips, her floral smell flooded his senses, and he felt her whole body move to meet his hand. They moved together, his head spinning, her soft moans resonating in the tall room, and then she cried out, her hand clawing on his shoulder, another one curled into his chest, and she pressed into him, feverishly murmuring his name.

He gently pulled his hand back, but she did not seem to notice, her breathing sharp and shallow, her forehead pressed to his chest, and he lay on his back, pulling her on top of him. He pulled covers over her and saw her lashes flutter and her eyes close. She seemed immediately sleepy after her release just like last night, and he assumed that was her usual reaction. He found it endearing.

She slept for five minutes, he started nodding off himself, when she suddenly jerked and stared at him with astonished eyes.

"Did I fall asleep?" He nodded and kissed the tip of her nose. She rubbed her eyes. "I am sorry, I am always sleepy after..." She waved her hand in the air, and he chuckled. Did she just try to gesture a carnal rapture? She giggled too and hid her face into him. "I am bare again. Is this going to be a custom with you, my lord?"

"But of course," he kissed the crown of her head. Then he picked up a curl of her flaming hair that had scattered on her shoulder. "It is very beautiful hair, my heart. You should let it grow out." She gave him a surprised look.

"It is orange like a carrot! And it sticks out all the time." She looked more surprised than when he confessed he liked her feet. He chuckled.

"It is magnificent. Like fire or coppered gold." He splayed his fingers in her mane and then pulled his hand out slowly, curls slithering between his digits.

"The next thing you will say you like the freckles!" She sounded so shocked that he guffawed.

He gently took her chin in his hand and whispered into her surprised eyes, "I love the freckles. I kept on staring at them seven years ago. I felt like an imbecile. I was faking pain, and you were touching my stomach. I thought I would take you on the floor in the infirmary in front of all those people." Her jaw slacked, and she opened and closed her mouth several times. He watched her with great pleasure. But his smug expression quickly dropped after her next statement.

"I had dreams of performing fellatio on you for days after seeing you in the bathtub." And there he was, forgetting whom he was dealing with. Impossible, glorious woman! He closed his mouth with a clank of teeth and started laughing.

"I sometimes forget you are not a gentle dove, do I?" She laughed too and caught his mouth. His hands met on her narrow back, and he ran his fingers along her spine paying special attention to her magnificent shoulder blades.

And then she moved away and smacked his shoulder. "You faked pain! I thought I was losing my touch!" He cocked a brow taunting her, and she laughed again. "I always know when patients are in pain, and I did not feel anything from you then. I thought I had lost my healer's abilities."

He loved her like that. Relaxed, laughing, free with him. She had just smacked him! And just because no one had ever been so familiar and dear to him, he pulled her to him and growled, "Do not hit me, woman!" And just as he hoped, her answer was equally ridiculous.

"Do not call me woman!" They laughed, and he cupped her face. They were kissing for a while, and then his fingers accidentally brushed the bruise on her cheekbone. She hissed, and he let her go, remorseful.

"Forgive me..." She snorted and gave him an impish look.

"What will the Elves think… They already consider Dwarves brutish and uncivilized. I might need to hide my face under a cloak. Good thing the hood is so big." He just could not believe it. Not more than a half an hour ago she confessed to having been abused, and now she was joking about it! She continued her frolics. "Should I say I tumbled down some stairs?" He looked at her attentively, she was so sober, so resilient. Admirable qualities from a Dwarf's point of view, but still surprising in a small girl from Men. She chuckled couple more times and settled on his chest. She treaded her fingers into his chest hair and sighed. "I am so happy that it is frightening..."

He gently stroked her hair and picked up her hand. He pressed it to his lips, and for the first time in his life Thorin Oakenshield said, and to his own surprise felt he did not lie, "I am happy too."

She nuzzled him, not understanding the significance of the moment and yawned. "I am glad. I wonder when we can have breakfast. I am starving."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: My darlings, this chapter is written by RagdollPrincess, and it is the beginning of the end for both our stories, her_ What the Future Brings_ and my _Thorin's Queen_. If you want to find out what happens with her OC and Kili right after this one, you will have to go to her page and read it :) **

**I will be dealing with the consequences of this chapter for my pairing, Thorin and Wren in the next few chapters, and then the story is done.**

* * *

_Written by RagdollPrincess_

"Thank God, it's warmer down here," Reese sighed as she followed Adam and Borgia into the courtyard at Rivendell.

"I'd rather be home," Adam grunted.

"I think this is the last trip I'll be making for awhile," Reese agreed.

"Won't argue with that," Adam muttered.

Reese rubbed her hands together vigorously to warm them, not noticing until she'd run into him that Adam had stopped abruptly before her. Her breath left her as Borgia ran into her from behind, clearly also not paying attention.

"What the …, " Reese asked as she peered around Adam to see what had caused him to stop so suddenly.

"Is that who I think it is?" Adam asked in a low voice. Borgia hissed. Splayed before them on a bench in the courtyard in Rivendell, lay none other than Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, looking incredibly smug, while a petite ginger haired woman of Men stretched above him like a cat scratching his beard and giggling while he teasingly ran his hand up her heavy velvet skirt.

"We're in Rivendell, right?" Adam muttered, although Reese didn't miss the menacing tone in his voice. She had shared with them the details of her run in with Thorin and Balin when they had returned to Bree from the Shire to pick her up just four weeks earlier. Neither Reese nor Borgia answered as they stared at the pair in dumbfounded silence. She hadn't expected to encounter the dwarves again in Rivendell.

The majestic King Under the Mountain suddenly became aware he and the woman were not alone and looked up at them startled, blinking uncomprehendingly. Then several things happened at once.

Reese found her brain was moving much more quickly than it had been a month earlier now that she'd moved into the second trimester. She was sure she was in the second trimester because she was no longer painfully tired, replaced with instead being painfully aroused at all times. However, she wasn't thinking of her constant state at this moment. She was not going to miss a second opportunity to speak with Kili.

"Kili!" she hollered up into the valley, hoping her calls would reach him, as she began to sprint towards the steps leading up from the courtyard into Rivendell.

Thorin, whose mind appeared to have realised the same as Reese's, unceremoniously dumped the woman on his lap to the cobblestones. The woman gave a small squeak as her backside hit the hard ground. That was going to leave a bruise. She was a ginger afterall. The woman stared after Thorin in astonishment as he leapt to his feet and plummeted towards Reese, remarkably quickly for a dwarf with both a prominent erection and limp. She didn't remember noticing his limp in Bree. He seemed to be favouring his right leg. Had that happened since then? Reese shook the thought from her head.

"Kili!" Reese shrieked again, her shrill panicked voice echoing off the valley and walls, hopefully heard over the sound of the falling water around them that didn't freeze, even in winter. "Kili! Kili!"

"Nooooo!" Thorin bellowed as he raced towards her. Reese didn't know how she was going to evade him. Even when not pregnant she was far from skilled in any form of combat compared to him. However, the ginger appeared to have quickly gleaned Thorin's purpose, and shouted after him.

"No! She's with child!" How the ginger knew this, Reese didn't know, since she was hardly showing through her bulky winter coat, instead looking as though she was just rounder and more plump than before. But she wasn't one to miss an opportunity. Thorin's pause, however slight, as he glanced at the ginger, gave Reese the opening she required as she turned to Thorin and kicked his right leg as hard as she could.

She'd been right that he'd been favouring this leg, and his groan was audible as he stumbled, only to be tackled by Borgia.

"Get off me!" Thorin gasped before cursing as Borgia held a knife to his throat.

"You like manhandling pregnant women who are alone in inns in Bree?" Borgia hissed. For whatever reason, Reese was one person in the world that Borgia was loyal to, cared for in any way for.

Reese glanced over her shoulder to make sure Borgia wasn't doing any real damage to Thorin and saw Adam had entered the scuffle as well while the ginger stood a few steps away turning in confusion between the tangle of men before her and Reese, who was now sprinting up the stairs.

"Kiliiiiiii!" Reese hollered, seeing out of the corner of her eye that Borgia now had Thorin pinned while Adam held Borgia's knife at bay, Adam was clearly not trying very hard to let Thorin get up.

Reese caught sight of a pair of elves nearby who had come to investigate the source of the disturbance but had paused, clearly unwilling to disrupt whatever was taking place between the dwarf king and the Futurians. They stood, mouths slightly agape in indignant shock, as Reese huffed up the stairs, pausing to shout again.

Her yell stopped in her throat when she saw Kili's dark head turn a corner as he peered down into the courtyard, a confused look on his emaciated face.

His features darkened when he saw Reese and he stopped, not moving any further towards her, but she was relieved to see that he didn't move to escape her either.

"Kili!" she gasped one last time, as she finished sprinting up the stairway.

He stood staring at her as though unable to believe that she was actually standing before him. She took a step towards him but stopped, instincts telling her she should not move any closer, and instead clutched the railing at the top of the stairs, gasping for breath.

She heard Thorin make muffled shouting noises and followed Kili's gazed glanced over her shoulder to see that Borgia and Adam had Thorin pinned like a starfish and that the petite woman was now straddling Thorin's chest, muffling his shouts with her small hand as he rolled his head around wildly trying to see where Reese and Kili were.

By this time they had drawn quite a crowd of elves who were much more interested in the scene before them than in the dwarf and Futurian that stood partially obscured by a tree on a small landing. She even saw that Balin had joined the crowd but was only sitting sweetly on the bench Thorin and the ginger had previously occupied, doing nothing to protect the king he was so loyal to. He glanced up at Reese and Kili before turning back to the scene before him.

Reese blinked once to make sure she was seeing the situation correctly before turning back to Kili. Her heart warmed to see a flash of confusion followed by humour cross his eyes before replaced again by the lost dead look that frightened her.

"Reese," he said in a flat tone, "Why have Wren, Adam, and Borgia attacked uncle in the courtyard?"

She bit her lip nervously. "Well, I believe Adam and Borgia are a bit annoyed at him for something he did to me in Bree a month ago," she began. Kili blinked when she referred to seeing Thorin in Bree as she continued. "I don't know why that woman is trying to muffle him, but maybe it has to do with his dumping her unceremoniously on her bum when he tried to tackle me before I started shouting for you and running up these stairs."

She watched him carefully as she spoke, gauging his reaction to see if he wanted to be protected from her. His lips twitched and he swallowed before he spoke. "Fili will be furious that he missed this."

Reese ventured to move towards him again and this time felt she had permission to come closer. She did so until she stood before him, all thought of the scene behind her now forgotten, when she realized she didn't know what to say.

She stood before him, mouth slightly open as though ready to speak, raised hands clasped in front of her chin, and hardly knew where to start. She watched his gaze travel over her, surveying her. He was calm, bordering on detached, but she saw sadness there as well. Deep, unrelenting sadness and grief.

She swallowed once and closed her eyes, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to cry, and fought back tears. She would for once in her life not selfishly put her own emotions before his. She may never change, but maybe just in this moment she could manage to be the person he deserved. Taking a breath she lowered her hands to hold them loosely before her and straightened her back, returning his sad calm gaze. She wished she saw hope there. She finally opened her mouth again and let the words come.

"Kili," she said his name, again. "I've spent months yearning for this moment. I've done nothing but think about if you would take me back, if you could forgive me for leaving like that, for being so foolish, so selfish, so inconsiderate. For not trusting you. I've spent hours and hours wondering if it I would be making it even worse if I tried to contact you, or even tried to go to you. And I realized just this moment that I never once spent a moment thinking about what I would say. And I feel so silly now, because you'd think I'd have thought about that, right? I mean, and the thing is all I could think about is getting to you, being with you, and if you still wanted me."

She paused. His face hadn't changed at all as she spoke, and he continued to survey her with the same detached sad expression, his beautiful brown eyes tired and hollow. She felt tears prick her eyes again and took another deep breath as she closed them tightly.

"I'm so sorry, Kili. For everything. For leaving the way I did. But not just for that. I'm sorry for everything I put you through, for always pushing you away. For being childish and selfish. I did everything I could to avoid the love you were offering me, and I shouldn't have. I should have gone forward, accepted it, even though it was scary." She paused and had to clasp her hands tightly again as they had started to shake.

"I've made so many mistakes, and the thing is, I'll probably make hundreds more. And you deserve so much better than me, but please, I need to know ... I mean ... I was hoping you could tell me, is it at all possible, that is." She felt herself stumble over her words, trying to not sound demanding or insistent. She wanted to make it easy for him to say no, and she avoided his gaze as she spoke the most difficult words.

"What I mean to say is that I love you, more than ever, and I never stopped loving you. And if you still love me, do you think you could give me a second chance? To show you how much I respect and trust you? To treat you the way you deserve to be treated? Because I see now how horrible I was, that I treated you as an inconvenience, as though having you in my life made it worse. And it didn't. It made it so much better, Kili. You brought me back to life. And I threw it away because I'm a selfish, self-centered woman, who always puts herself first. And that's probably not the best way to try to convince you, but I need you to see that I know that now. And the thing is that looking back, I don't think you should take me back, because I think I make you miserable. I made your life hell, while you made mine beautiful and joyful. But I hope that you'll give me a second chance, a chance to make your life better too, not just take for myself and suck you dry. To show you the love that you deserve."

She realized she'd started to ramble and as she stopped talking she wasn't even sure if she'd asked a clear question. She raised her eyes to his and gasped, seeing that they were full of tears. She'd never seen him cry and was astonished, unsure what to do or say. She moved to touch him, but he held his hand up abruptly, stopping her. She clasped her hands together again, gripping them tightly as her heart and throat ached as she saw him struggle with his pain.


	12. Chapter 12

Wren had always praised herself on disciplined mind and reason. Sometimes she almost feared her own ability to be calculative when everyone else was running in panic, she would ask herself whether she was cold, perhaps insensitive. Among other things she would doubt herself as a healer then, in her life she had chosen a path of helping others, and still she was able to remain calm when people were dying or in pain around her. This ability allowed her to be a great surgeon, but self-doubt was one of the strongest emotions Wren had to carry with her every day.

At the moment when a short dark-haired woman suddenly darted by Thorin, screaming the name of his younger nephew as if it were the only word existing in the world, and Wren could hear through her magic the heart of the woman's unborn child beating frantically through its mother's distress, Wren did not think. She did not calculate or strategise, she acted on the sheer instinct of protecting a woman and her child, and doing what was right by her heart and her soul.

Two large men pinned the King to the floor, and she saw muscles bulging on his arms and chest under the soft tunic. Limp or not, he was immensely strong physically, and now that he had quickly recovered from the shock of events suddenly unfolding in the yard, Wren could clearly see he would overpower them in a matter of instants. She quickly assessed his position and saw his thighs strain. He would press his feet into the floor and roll, the smaller man with mad eyes would receive the first blow, and even if he managed to block it, their advantage over the King would be over.

She leaped ahead and sat on Thorin's chest. He froze, and she clasp her hand over his mouth. His eyes fixed at her, and she had never seen him like that. Her always so overly zealous mind noted two things. He was terrifying in his rage, and secondly, she was probably destroying her betrothal.

"Stop it right now!" Her voice was calm and authoritative, and she lifted her eyes on the bigger man. He seemed as the saner one, considering he took the knife away from the King's throat. "Both of you, step away from the King Under the Mountain." She noticed Thorin was still not moving, and she felt his burning eyes on her face. For the child, for the child, the thought kept whirling in her head, she was doing it for Kili's unborn child. The moment her gift showed her the babe she knew it was half-Dwarven. The woman's desperate howling explained the rest. "Release him and step away. You are assaulting a Dwarven King in the house of an Elven Lord." The bigger man blinked, and she knew her words reached his understanding. She quickly turned to the second one. She could see the blood thirst of a killer and the cold mind of an animal. This one was dangerous. She had heard what he said about Thorin manhandling the woman in Bree. Wren had no time to ponder who the woman was and what had happened but she knew one thing. The man with a strange cruel face was loyal to the short-haired woman. Wren understood that was her angle. "She is alright now. She is with Kili. She would not want you to assault his uncle. And," she also knew Balin was close, as well as Rivendell Elves that were gathering around, "We are ceasing this ridiculous scene. What do we look like to the Elves?" She hissed, adding conspiratory derisive tone into her voice, and both men let go of Thorin's arms. He remained still, and she had no strength to look at him. She did not allow herself think of what this scene meant for her, she was not going to think how little chance to stay by his side she had after this.

"I am certain Lindir will be happy to show the two of you, honourable guests of Lord Elrond," she added more steel into her tone, "Where you could repose and find some sustenance." She found the dark eyes of the Elf in the crowd, and for a second she saw disdain and defiance in his eyes. Wren clenched her teeth. For the next several minutes until the King Under the Mountain threw her out of his life, she was still the betrothed of Thorin Oakenshield. She narrowed her eyes at Lindir, and with vindictive satisfaction she saw his face waver.

He stepped ahead and invited the men to follow him in a welcoming gesture. Thorin stirred under her, and she quickly scampered off him. She was staring at the floor, at the heavy velvet of her dress, when she heard Balin's soft voice above them, "Well, that was quite a scene, laddie. Do you think that perhaps you and your future wife should take it to your chambers now?"

Wren was starting to come down from the emotional outburst, and her whole body was shaking. Suddenly she saw Thorin's hand in front of her nose. She gave him hers and heavily got up. He started marching into his chamber, pulling her after him, she followed obediently, still looking under her feet, his hand was scorching, and she felt like crying. Just a few minutes ago she had been playfully battering this very hand from snaking under her skirts.

He let her enter the chamber first, and then closed the door behind him. She was standing in the middle of it. He moved heavily around the room, and she thought that he probably wanted to sit, the leg probably bothering him, but he couldn't while she was standing, and he apparently didn't feel like talking to her, so she tucked herself on the nearest surface, which to her dire surprise turned out to be his bed. He immediately heavily dropped in a chair by the table, she was right.

"What is it about her being with child?" His voice was raspy, and she wriggled her fingers.

"I am… was a midwife for many year, my lord," her voice was quiet, but was not shaking. By his question he reminded why she acted the way she did, and she suddenly felt ready to face him. She lifted her face and looked at him. The eyes were dark, lips set in a stern line, and brows frowned. She was taken back to the months he had spent in her infirmary seven years ago, to his dark disposition and temper he had showed then, and she felt almost grateful to Maiar for this reminder. He was no enamoured youngling, he was a battle hardened Dwarf, a King and a rather temperamental male. She seemed to be forgetting it these days. She cleared her throat. "I can tell such things. She is expecting."

The King placed an elbow on the armrest and hid his mouth behind a fist. She could see the storm gathering behind his brow. At least he was not rushing out of the chamber, she thought, she gained the woman some time with Kili.

"I am certain it is Kili's," Thorin spoke gravely. "She is loyal..." He was talking to himself, but Wren suddenly felt curious.

"She is a Futurian, is she not? I have heard of them. People from far away, lost here. They have quite different ways, I was told." She was speaking carefully. She had little hope he would forget about her presence here, she knew their conversation was coming. She also knew for certain the woman's child was half-Dwarf, but telling this to Thorin meant disclosing her magic, and she hardly felt comfortable with it. Especially if he were to throw her out now.

"I told her to stay away… Mahal knows what they are talking about..." Thorin was still mumbling, and then he sharply got up, as much as his limp allowed. Wren panicked, he was going to interfere!

"No!" She jumped on her feet as well, and he looked at her aghast. "You cannot go there. They need time, they need to talk…" Thorin squared his shoulders and gave her a heavy glare. She shrank away. The gravity of the situation was settling in. She challenged him, she as much as betrayed him. She quickly looked him over. One large fist was clenched, and she saw the tension in the shoulders. He was livid. Pain bloomed in her chest, seven years of ache woke up, and she suddenly felt suffocated. This time she would have no strength to shield herself from the pain of losing him. Last time he was nothing but a dream, and this time her loss would crush her.

And then, suddenly she jerked her chin up and gave him an haughty look. She was Wren of Enedwaith, she was her own woman, and even if that was the end of her association with the Dwarf, be it. She straightened her back and folded arms on her chest. "She is carrying his child, it is between the two of them." She saw Thorin's mouth twist in an enraged grimace.

"You know nothing about them," he snarled through bared teeth, but she knew what was the right thing to do. And she was grateful for her strange calculative mind at the moment. She would lament later, she would let her emotions overrule when he was gone. At the moment she needed to gain Kili and his beloved more time.

"I know that no one can stand between the Dwarf and his One. She is his One, is she not? She is the woman he was mourning the absence of..."

"She ran!" Thorin interrupted her, his voice cold and furious, "She abandoned him, and she broke him!"

"She did not!" Wren was quickly giving up any attempts of keeping her words in check. "She did not. How can you be so blind?!" She almost felt like screaming at him 'You did!' but whatever sense she had left halted her from rash words. If she hoped he would understand her, she needed to speak more cautiously. She had little hope though. "The war broke him. Kili is… different. He is not like you, or Balin, or any other Dwarf I know, for that matter. He is sensitive, perceptive, he..." She started pacing the room, her hands flying up energetically in her habitual gestures. "His state… His emotional wounds… They are not from her, they are from the battle… He needed help then, guidance, and you did not give it to him..." She saw Thorin open his mouth, but she had nothing to lose anymore. "You could not, of course, you are of Khazad, you do not understand. Souls like him cannot come out of the battle unscarthed. You and others… You recover from the wounds, and you drink, you celebrate the victory and mourn the dead, and you persevere. Kili is… He is still bleeding… What had happened will stay with him for long… Do you even know what it is like?!" Her voice suddenly broke into a scream, and he jerked his face up. He had been glaring at the floor, his arms folded, in a defensive posture, and she knew he was listening but not hearing. And she wanted him to hear her, at least for the last time. "You do not understand how it is to live like that. When every emotion you have is like a blade across an open wound. When you see more and feel more, and the world around is blind and deaf, and people hurt each other, and there is cruelty and corruption everywhere, and you cannot do anything about it! Kili saw death, he saw his kin die, he lost so much in those battles, and unlike you he cannot mourn and honour the dead and live on. He carries them with him!"

At some point of her speech she stopped in front of the table and was supporting herself, holding on to an armrest of a chair. Everything was too tall for her in the Elven house, she thought dully.

"Wren..." The King's voice was suddenly soft, and he made a step to her, and she suddenly saw red. He knew of course she was not just talking about Kili, she knew only too well what it was like to be in Kili's shoes, but she did not need his pity.

"Do not mistake the empathy for weakness, my lord," she pinned him with a glare, and he stopped, his hand slightly lifted to touch her shoulder, "His mind and his heart are his greatest weapons. Once he is certain of himself, once he feels safe and once he is loved and cherished, he will be stronger than any of you, thick skulled, single-minded, cantankerous, stubborn Dwarves." Thorin's brows jumped up, and she felt satisfied. She had felt expressing her opinion was way overdue. "He was not ready for what had come, and you did not help him. You let a beautiful boy spiral down, and I am certain," her tone was growing venomous, "You all thought he was nursing a broken heart, and you let him drink himself into oblivion! You thought she broke him, while she had a chance to help him. Was that why you kept them apart? Did you threaten her in Bree?" Wren had always been quick in piecing snippets of knowledge together. Thorin's face wavered. She guessed right then, and again with pleasure she watched shame spilling onto his features.

"She weakened him..." Wren suspected even for his own ears Thorin sounded uncertain.

"She did not. She is what he needs to feel safe." Wren did not know where the certainty came from. Perhaps she was just imagining it, perhaps just sharing her own hopes, her own longing, her own dream of what her marriage was to be. She suddenly felt angry with herself, she was naive. Did she indeed hope for finding somewhere she belonged to, the person to share herself with? The realisation of how mad her hopes were suddenly flooded her.

Wren stepped back and heavily sat on the bed again. She suddenly had no strength left. "Is this how you see me too?" She whispered, and she painfully clasped her hands together to hide their shaking. "That I am that sort of nuisance, the wrong woman to fall for, the one to weaken you..."

Thorin was silent, and she felt tears coming. She had her pride though, she needed to leave the room. He could not see them.

"You are being absurd, Wren." Thorin moved. She could not see, her eyes clouded. She was frantically trying to remember where the door was. He heavily sat down near her, and one long arm went around her shoulders. She jolted, he was scorching, and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip to suppress a sob. "We are not them."

"I am no different from her. I am a woman of Men, and not the best out of them..." She felt it came out in a very childish way, and to confirm her suspicion she heard a small chuckle from him. Added to the storm of emotions she was going through she felt irritation as well. He was mocking her. She shortly wanted to move away from him, but she felt the warmth coming off from his body, and the fresh spicy smell of his skin, and she sniffled. He was silent, and she was starting to reign her emotions. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. His face was pensive, but not angry anymore. She was worried to scare off this moment of closeness between them, her heart was still beating frantically in her chest, and she suddenly felt very cold.

"Frerin was the same..." Thorin suddenly spoke, his voice soft, "We just could not understand why he would… Too soft, too weak, they used to say. He was a good fighter though." She was looking at his profile and did not notice when tears started running down her cheeks until she felt their taste on her lips. "_Makhaffi_, they would say. Too much heart. How did I miss it?" He suddenly looked in her eyes, and her breathing hitched. He was smiling to her, she could not believe it, her lips trembled, and then he pulled her into tight embrace. She sobbed or hiccuped, from shock and still not allowing herself to hope for what seemed to be happening.

"You are wrong, Wren." His voice was soft and even, and she grabbed handfuls on his tunic at his back. "You make me stronger. I feel stronger… It hurts less, it is easier to breathe..." She started sobbing loudly, her reserve finally collapsing, and he stroked her hair and made comforting soft noises. She was quaking, from relief and from exhaustion. But then she remembered she had to finish what she had started.

"She can do the same for him," her nose was stuffed, and her voice was squeaky, but she needed to make sure she helped at least a bit. "She will give him a child, and will love him, and will cherish him. She will do anything for him, she will kill and die for him..."

"Are we still talking about Reese?" Thorin's voice was teasing, but it wavered for a second, and she felt acutely embarrassed for her blabbering her feelings towards him out, she jerked away from him, she wanted to hide her face. He did not let her. He softly pressed his lips to her temple, and she sniffled again.

"Is that her name? So beautiful and unusual..."

"And there is a child," Thorin's voice was gentle, he was nudging her towards the thought, and she gulped. She was not allowing herself the thought, but now he was talking about it and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into herself.

"There is a child," her voice broke, and she sobbed again. "Maiar, a half Dwarven child..." She inhaled shakily and moved away from him, she needed to see his eyes. They were blazing, the blue irises shining, and she laughed with her nose still stuffed and probably red. He was smiling, and she hastily wiped her eyes. "Maiar..." She did not know what to say. They both knew the significance of the child the one called Reese carried, and Wren's heart was fluttering.

Thorin cupped her face and gave her a long loving look. She sniffed again. She was still wondering if he was going to address the fact that she helped two unfamiliar men tackle him on the ground in the Elven house, when he lunged ahead and caught her mouth. All thought vacated her head.

She came back to her senses on the bed in entanglement of limbs, his hot lips pressed to her breasts through her thin undertunic in the already unlaced bodice of the dress. On one hand, were they to proceed that would indeed keep him in the room and would give Kili and his beloved more time, on the other hand, was he not intending to wait till their wedding night?

* * *

**A/N: And remember, if you want to know how the conversation between Kili and Reese is going in the meantime, check RagdollPrincess' _What The Future Brings _:)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I apologise for this update taking so long. To be honest, I completely forgot to update this story O_o Since RagdollPrincess' **_**What the Future Brings**_** is now complete and it was initially her universe, somehow in my mind this story was over too :) Oops :)**

**This is a penultimate chapter. One more after, and Wren2 and Thorin2 have their happily ever after :D**

**Remember that this Wren and Thorin have one more story about them, **_**Another Night, Another Path**_**, a collection of smutty one-shots that weirdly enough still have a bit of plot in them ;) There is the wedding night, the morning after the wedding night, there is pregnancy reveal and pregnancy adventures (during which Wren builds a snowman, and Thorin worries :D), and other random details of their life, but yeah, mostly smut :)**

**I will continue writing those one-shots for as long as I write FF, so check them out if you feel like it :)**

* * *

**A/N#2: The wedding info is taken from Dwarrow Scholar website. The bloke is wicked! Check him out if you are looking for any Dwarven stuff!**

* * *

"Thorin…" Wren breathed out, and he hooked one finger and pulled the collar of her undertunic. His lip found her clavicles, and the beard scraped at her sensitive skin. "Were you not intending to…?"

"Do not speak," he growled, and his teeth grazed at her skin, "Or I will remember that I am angry with you..."

She jerked, she thought he must have been. She could let him continue, and Maiar help her, she wanted him to, and he would not be angry with her, but she remembered that if they were to get through this and wed, she was to be his wife and his partner in everything. Were she to let it continue, he would regret it.

"You wanted to wait till our wedding night..." He pushed his hand in the cut of her chemise and the rough palm covered her puckered tip. Her head dropped back against her will, and she moaned.

"I will," he was snarling, pressing into her more and more, "I will stop soon..." Suddenly she felt strangely merry.

"No, you will not. Your other hand is between my legs already." The aforementioned hand stilled. She was equally lamenting the movements that he ceased, he was unconsciously stroking her clit with his thumb over the thin fabric of her bloomers, no one had ever touched her so unrestrainedly, almost possessively, and at the same time she was becoming overwhelmed by his uninhibited assault. Her head was spinning. "Do not misunderstand me, my lord, I am enjoying it immensely..." She felt there was something hysterical in her frolics, but she was still unsure where they stood.

He lifted his face and looked in her eyes. His stare was grave and burning, anger and lust mixed in it, and she felt like wincing away.

"You humiliated me in front of Elves and Men, Wren..." His voice was even and low, and she shrank. And then he stroked her center again. She jolted, and he moved closer to her. She was breathing in shallow short breaths, her throat choked. His face was very close, and he was suddenly terrifying. He drew a tight pointed circle with his thumb on her clit, their eyes locked, and her body readily reacted to it. She felt her bloomers growing moist and heady blush spill on her face and neck.

"I did," she confirmed and that gained her another circular caress. There was something punishing about it too, and they both knew it.

"Am I to hear you ask for forgiveness, my lady?" He was growling, and she opened her mouth to admit her guilt, and then she saw the furious feral smirk twisting his lips, and felt the pulp of his thumb press into her clit far from gently. She suddenly felt that was the moment of test for her, and she pressed her lips and gave him a defiant stare. He cocked a brow in surprise. The thumb moved again, and she suppressed a moan.

"I am not just your future husband, Wren, I am your King. You defied me," he lowered his face to her neck, and the kiss on the side of her throat was sharp and almost painful.

"I did what had to be done." Her voice was shaking, but she was still fighting. His fingers between her legs sped up, and she mewled. He had brought her to climax twice already, the evening and the morning of their first night in Rivendell, and being the experienced lover he was, he had learnt all the tells and all the spots. The hand suddenly left her center, and she exhaled sharply, only to whimper again, when he jerked her skirt up and pushed the hand down her bloomers.

The thick middle finger dipped into her, the heel of his palm cover the clit, and he made a slight twisting movement, caressing seemingly in several spots at the same time. She realised she was pushing her hips into his hand, moaning loudly.

"Admit it, Wren, you regret your insolence." Her back was arching on the cursed Elven bed, she was losing her mind, and then something of what he had said scraped at her mind.

"You are my King..." She breathed out, her hands clawing at the covers. He gave her a smug smirk, lowering his lips on her now exposed breasts, but she pressed her hand in his shoulder. "But I am your Queen." Her voice lacked firmness, but the words she pronounced gave her strength. She pushed him away more decisively. "I am the Queen of Erebor, and I made the decision that I thought was right." All his movements halted, and she gathered her will and rolled away from him. He did not try stopping her.

She rose on all four, her arms and legs shaking, and she threw a look at him askew. He was still half lying on the bed, his hand on the covers where she was an instant ago. He looked livid, knots of muscles rolling on his jaw, but he was listening.

"I am the Queen, and I could not let you manhandle the pregnant beloved of your nephew in front of people of the Last Homely House." She purposefully alluded to the words of one of the Men, since Thorin had reacted with so much shame to them. "I chose the least of evils." She heavily rolled and sat on her knees. It felt like she had just went through a fight. Her muscles ached, there was ringing in her ears, she felt exhausted. And then she remembered she was marrying a Dwarf. At least she hoped she still was. "I did what was best for my kin."

She took three deep breaths and finally lifted her eyes to meet his. He was studying her carefully, and she squared her shoulders. He was overwhelming, intimidating, a true King, and she needed to be the queen worthy of him. A part of her was panicking, but she reminded herself, he didn't need a servant, he needed a wife. She tried to recall all his transgressions against her, to rise her temper, to find her will to confront him. He had appeared in her infirmary after seven years, he had assumed she would just pick up her life and go after him. Seven years before he had left her, and Maiar knew what he had been doing since that. The last argument worked, jealousy flooded her. It was a new feeling, she had not even been aware she could feel possessive of another person, but at the moment she clenched her teeth. He had bedded hundreds of other women, she told herself. She was probably exaggerating but she needed to feel angry, she needed to defy him again. That was the only way to establish her position for future if they ever were to have any together. She imagined a long line of women, standing in a queue expecting his favours, all of them tall and alluring, with opulent bosoms and enticing curves. She realised she had succeeded when suddenly she felt like giving him a nice whole-hearted slap.

And then she remembered he had just tried to use carnal pleasure to punish her. That was cruel and unfair, and she hissed through her teeth, "And I have to tell you, my lord, I feel offended and humiliated at the moment. I do not ever wish to interweave our intimacy with our discord. It is too… cherished and meaningful for me to ever being used as a tool of punishment."

His face wavered, and she congratulated herself internally. She let him know that unlike him for her it was sacred, not just a lewd physical pleasure, a union of two hearts, and not just… organs. Even in her mind she could not use other words, but then she once again reminded herself of how many other women saw, touched and dallied with the aforementioned organ. He was seemingly thinking of the same. It had to be different, it was to be part of their marriage. She could not let him mistreat her in such way.

On the other hand, her body was craving renewing the contact. He had scared her a few moments ago, the cold eyes, the cruel touch, but she loved him. Maiar help her, she loved him so much! She just wanted to embrace him and press into him, but she did not know whether she could trust him. Their association was so fresh, so raw, and he had just frightened her. He was staring at her, and she wondered whether he had ever in his life doubted his judgement. Perhaps he was incapable of it, he was after all a Dwarf.

"Forgive me, Wren, I was unfair," his voice was quiet and hollow, and her eyes flew up to his face in shock. She had been completely certain he did not know what an apology was. He sat up and opened his arms. "Let us not argue, I am begging you." His voice was pleading, and after a moment of hesitation she moved to him. He pulled her in, crushing her, and she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was chaste and emotional, and she placed several more on his cheeks. He chuckled and cupped her face, making her look at him. "I was unfair, and I especially apologise for being… rough. I was angry, but you are right. We should never take our grievances into our marital bed." She felt exuberant. He was still intending to marry her! On the other hand, there were still a few things to clarify.

"You were not rough, but I have to say I did not give full consent to your actions, Thorin," she kept her tone soft but the meaning of it was clear. She paused, and he frowned giving it a thought. A small but decisive nod from him was all she needed, she was certain she had gotten her thought through, and she exhaled in relief and wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt his body was tense under her, and she stroked the back of his head. Tension was leaving her body meanwhile, and she almost could not believe it, but it seemed they had gotten through this turbulence, and all was well.

"Is all well now?" She asked in a small voice, and he chuckled and cupped the back of her head. He buried his nose in her hair, and its tip brushed at her neck. Goosebumps ran down her back. Her body reacted to him whether she wanted it or not.

"All is well, Wren," the lips followed where the nose was before, but there was no hunger and lust in the caress, and she sighed happily. There was one more thing to mention.

"My lord," she softly spoke and moved away from him, stroking the sides of his face, "You said you wanted to wait till our wedding night with…" She stumbled over her words, but made herself continue, "If you do, you have to stop tempting me. You know how how willing I am," she blushed furiously, and he smiled to her warmly, "You will not see any objections from me if you ask nicely." That gained her a guffaw, and she nuzzled his ear. Her lips brushed his helix, and she whispered, "If you want to keep me untouched, I suggest you keep your distance, my lord." One of his large palms lay on her back between her shoulder blades, he pushed her backwards with the other one, the palm on her back supporting her so that the fall was safe, but still the room swam in front of her eyes. He was pressing her body into the sheets again, but this time there was no anger, no darkness in his lust, just some sort of merry amused desire.

His mouth devoured hers, his hands quickly started wandering, she was breathing more and more heavily, he was heating up, her legs went around his waist, and he ground his hips into her. She answered with a moan, and her heels dug into his buttocks.

"Tell me to stop, Wren," he suddenly whispered raspily, kissing her strangely enough at the inner side of her elbow. She did not expect it to affect her much, but when his tongue swirled on her skin there, she cried out from the fire that licked between her thighs, "Tell me to stop..."

In her fogged mind she suddenly clearly understood he was asking for her help. He could not stop himself, he desired her, and the thought was an astonishing revelation to her. He desired her! Her, Wren of Enedwaith, the sickly, ugly Wren, and he was asking her to help him to stop. The sensation of power surged through her, he was telling her she was to decide and to choose what was to transpire between them, and as much as she wanted to throw all caution aside and enjoy his body, she squeezed her eyes and breathed out.

"Stop, Thorin," her soft command was hardly audible, but he halted and his body jolted. He made a choked pained sound and pushed himself of her, his massive wide body shaking, teeth bared. This time it was him who was on all four, breathing heavily, and she gave him time, not touching, not speaking to him. Several moments passed, and he sat down, awkwardly stretching the leg in front of him, and rubbed his face with large hands.

"I think we should haste with the wedding. I might not survive any more of time with you this way. This betrothal is going too well..."

"We have just had a row, my lord," she tried to diffuse the tension with a joke, and he threw an askew look at her.

"It is not the rows that worry me, it is making peace after them." Her cheeks started burning again, she had heard of the pleasure of ending a quarrel between lovers, and then he cocked a brow at her. She giggled, and he joined her with a low raspy laughter.

"Mahal, help me, this marriage will be the death of me." She bit into her bottom lip with tentative flirtiness.

"Does Dwarven wedding ceremony include mentioning of staying together till death?" He settled on the bed more comfortably, leaning against the headboard, and patted the spot near him. She crawled up to him, and he pulled her closer. Her head lay on his shoulder, and he intertwined their fingers.

"Have you not found it out in your thorough research, my lady?" He was teasing her, and she snorted.

"You are well aware how secretive your people are regarding such things."

"Aye, we are. And no, there is no mentioning of death, that would be too grave." Wren snorted again.

"Oh, of course we would not want that. Clearly, it is all happy singing, and braiding flowers into each other's hair, and dancing with ribbons," she sing-songed, and he quickly turned and placed a loud ridiculous kiss onto her ear. She squeaked and pushed him away. Since she was not genuinely trying to put any distance between them, her feigned attempts only ended in him placing similar kisses on the palms of her hands she was pressing into his face. She was snorting, he was catching her fingers in his mouth.

After a few minutes of foolish dalliances, they settled back on the bed. She tucked herself into his side, and he was running his fingers through her hair.

"_In my Halls you will find a house, in your heart I will find a home._" He suddenly spoke in a quiet voice, and she moved away to look in his eyes. "That is what the groom says." She was staring in his bright eyes, and he softly smiled to her.

"And what does the bride say?" Wren whispered back, and he cupped her jaw and tenderly brushed his lips to hers.

"And then you will say, _"In your Halls I will find a house, in my heart you will find a home." _She was looking in his eyes, loving, sincere, they smiled to each other, seeing and understanding so much in each other's eyes and hearts, and she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her temple to his.

"Yes, Thorin, yes, you are my home now," her voice was trembling, but instead of tears, even happy ones, an elated laughter burst out of her.

"And you are mine," he rubbed the side of his face to hers, and then their lips met in a tender kiss, and it went on and on, and just would not want to end.

* * *

The next day she knocked at the door of his room, and he invited her in. He had maps spread on his table, and she came up to him. He quickly leaned in and pecked her lips, firmly having decided from now on to refrain from anything more than this until the day of their wedding, and immediately forgetting his own decision he wrapped his arms around her and caught her mouth.

Half an hour later, after one 'Thorin, stop' and his 'Why?' and her 'Because you asked me to' he sat on a chair, placing her on his lap. She gave him a sceptical look from the corner of her eye, and he chuckled.

"So, what did my Queen find out in her scouting?" He asked cheekily, stroking her thigh under layers of heavy velvet and silk petticoats, and her brows jumped up and her eyes lost the dazed expression.

"How did you know?" He laughed and quickly kissed her neck. She made a funny croak like noise. With all frustration aside, he genuinely enjoyed how responsive she was to his attentions.

"I think I understand my little Queen rather well. I doubt she would manage to stay away and refrain from at least being a bit nosy." He kissed the tip of her nose, and she wrinkled it in pretense of indignation. She was not deceiving anyone. "So what did you find out in the rooms of my sister-son?"

"He was asleep, and I only went there to bring her food. She must be starving at all times, growing this giant babe inside her. She is in her second trimester, and the child is healthy, just as she is. And she has not told Kili yet, but they are at peace." Thorin nodded, pondering her words, and Wren felt proud and flattered, he asked for her opinion and seemed to trust her evaluation.

"So you think she will travel back with us?" He asked, absentmindedly stroking the back of her palm with his thumb, already planning ahead, and she jumped at him pressing her lips to his greedily. He was relying on her in this, not rushing to interfere himself, and she kissed him again and again, grabbing his wonderful Dwarven ears, and somehow they were on the floor, and the skirts were bunched up, and she was not at all certain she could manage another 'Thorin, stop,' when he rolled off her and loudly thumped his forehead into the floor.

"We are to be wed as soon as we step into Erebor," he proclaimed, and she emitted a hysterical laugh.

"I accept your proposal, my lord." He lifted his head and gave her a look. It was a mixture of amusement, reflection of his half suppressed painful erection and a sardonical glare, and she got up and walked to his table. He remained on the floor, mostly probably for the view of her ankles. She clasped her hands behind her back, and rocking on her heels she pondered the map. "Are we leaving tomorrow morning?"

"We are," he sat up and smiled to her. "And sooner than you expect you will be in the Lonely Mountain."

She searched her mind, but found no trepidation. She was going home.


End file.
